Turning of the Wheel
by PhantomChajo
Summary: Everything has to start somewhere. AU since Damas is alive & Rated M due to events. Currently pairings: A/T & DJ/T, others planed but may/may not occur. Genres bounce all over the spectrum. Have forum, will answer questions, etc. Or just send PM
1. Chapter 1

Turning of the Wheel

A Jak and Daxter fanfic

By PhantomChajo

(A/N pt 1: I own nothing but those characters you don't recognize. Everyone else belongs to Naughty Dog, Inc. And to all those wonderful authors out there in this fandom, if it wasn't for you guys I doubt I'd have been bitten as bad or as hard as I have by those bloody-damned demanding muses! Thanks guys! *Snerks* :P

P.S.… any notes on the chapter will be stuck at the bottom. And I tend to be very slow about posting, just look at my other stuff that's not complete yet!)

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_35 years before the founding of Haven City…._

In a tiny remote village far to the north and west of Sandover Village, the wails of a newborn echoed off the walls of the simple hut. Once the child was cleaned up, it was then presented to the village wise-man to decide the child's fate. The wise-man took the child carefully, looking it over before handing it back to the midwife so that she could return the newborn to its mother. After the child was returned to the mother, the father kissed her temple then stood up and joined the waiting wise-man. The two men slowly walked through the village towards the wise-man's hut.

After entering the hut, the young father sat respectfully across from the village wise-man. "Tell me, o wise one, what is the fate of my son?"

The old man pondered how to put into words what he had seen. "I both fear and rejoice for your son Myrik. He will face many challenges and hardships. He will be put down and insulted, he will be called many things that would break a weaker soul, yet I foresee that he will survive and even be elevated to a higher being. Though he will play the fool for those close to him there will be none more loyal then your son. He will have a hand in shaping the world one day," the wise-man said then softly chuckled, "even if it is just to stir things up because he is bored."

Myrik shook his head then looked up through the smoke hole at the center of the hut. "So shall I mourn now for my child so that I may celebrate his triumphs later?"

The old man smiled then reached out and patted the young man on the shoulder. "Mourn when the time is right, for now; rejoice that your first born is a son. And speaking of that, what do you plan having him named so that I may start on the preparations for his introduction to the rest of our people?"

The young man grinned, reaching up to run a hand through bright fire red and gold hair. "I wish to honor my grandfather. I wish to name him Daxter."

The wise-man let out a laugh. "Eh, so should I worry that my grandson will be just as much trouble for you as I was for my father?" asked Daxter. Though blind, his milky white eyes unerringly found his grandson's eyes then crinkled up at the corners as he grinned impishly.

"I do not doubt it Grandfather."

_32 years before the founding of Haven City…._

Mayor Manac looked the bedraggled young man with the dull fire red and gold hair over once more. He didn't like the appearance of the young man. In his opinion letting ruffians into the village was tantamount to the place going to the lurkers. His eyes shifted though of their own accord to the tiny child nestled in the older man's arms. Hair just as red though the roots were more orange then gold. Bright blue inquisitive eyes stared back at the Mayor. Bringing a hand up to scratch at his forehead he let out a sigh. "Fine, you can stay. But you had better pull your weight around the village, you hear me?"

The unkempt young man bowed his head. "Yes sir, I will."

The mayor harrumphed before waving a hand in the direction of one of the villager's huts. "Mrs. Perch has graciously offered her home for you to stay in until you can build your own."

"Thank you sir," Myrik responded.

"Come now dear," Mrs. Perch, who was often called the Bird Lady for her avian passion, gently guided Myrik out of Mayor Manac's home. "You both look like you could use a good hot meal and a nice soft place to rest. What's the little one's name dear?"

A gentle smile ghosted across the young man's face as he looked down at his son who was nestled in his arms. "His name is Daxter."

"Daxter? What an unusual name," Mrs. Perch replied.

"He was named after my grandfather. He was a good man and a great wise-man of our village." His gentle smile turned sad once more. "When our village was over-run by lurker beasts, he was one of the first to fall. His sacrifice allowed our warriors time to rally the village defenses so that everyone could escape."

"Oh dear… I'm so sorry…"

Myrik shook his head, "Please, do not apologize Mrs. Perch, you did not know. I am grateful, for without that sacrifice, neither myself nor my son would have made it this far."

The bird lady eyed the tired young man skeptically but shrugged her shoulders. "Well you only have a little farther to go before you can rest." She patted him on the arm once more and continued on to her home.

_30 years before the founding of Haven City….._

A rather nasty storm was raging over the small village of Sandover. That itself wasn't too unusual due to the location of the village. It was at the western tip of the peninsula while the forbidden jungle was to the east. No, what was unusual was that an older man with two very young children and a crocadog had arrived in the middle of such a nasty storm. Both children, a green haired boy and a blue haired girl, were clutching the older man. They whimpered in fright every time lightning lit up the sky and thunder crashed over them, clinging that much harder.

They had arrived at the village, just as Samos's older time self had said they would, though the crotchety older man had failed to mention that they would arrive in the middle of fierce storm. His older time twin had also failed to mention that no one in the village would respond to his pounding on their doors as they sought shelter. 'Blasted old coot!' he thought to himself as he huddled under the eaves of the mayor's home, out of the icy cold water. There was just one more home to try before he ran out of options.

As lightning illuminated the area once more, Samos blinked then shook his head to try and clear the after image away. When lightning flashed again the figure was closer. He wasn't sure if he should meet the figure half way or not. The decision was taken from him as the figure made appeared next to him, under the eaves of the home.

"What are you doing out in this storm old one? With little ones no less!" the person asked, flipping back the hood from the rain cape they were wearing.

"Our… ship crashed ashore a ways up the coast. I had been told to go south to seek a village where we might find shelter and a place to stay," Samos said, telling just enough of the truth without revealing everything.

The young man nodded, not fully believing the old man, but he didn't have proof of the lie either. With a mental shrug, he dismissed it for later going over. "Since none of these cowardly lot will open the doors at night, much less in a storm you can stay with me and my son while it blows over," he offered, looking past the old man's shoulder to send a look at the mayor who was peeking out of a window at the group. The mayor quickly vanished from sight. "Give me the little ones, my rain cape should keep them from getting any more soaked then they are."

Samos was leery of giving over his daughter and the heir to the house of Mar, but his wisdom over ruled his distrust. "My name is Samos, I am a Green Eco sage. This little one is.. Jak," he said as he handed over the child Mar. "And this one, is my daughter Keira."

"I'm Myrik. I'll introduce you to my son Daxter when we arrive. Knowing the little imp he is awake and watching the storm from the loft," Myrik said with a chuckle as he flipped the hood up once more then accepted both children easily. Once both were covered by the cape he turned and watched the storm a moment. "Just follow that path," nodding towards the wooden bridges that spanned between the tip of the land, a rocky pillar and finally out to larger rocky outcropping, "Don't worry about slipping, I made sure to keep the wooden planks rough when I built the bridges."

Samos nodded. "Go then, I'll be there shortly."

Myrik nodded back then bounced lightly on his feet, then started a sing-song chant as he watched the shy a moment. As soon as lightning flashed, he dashed out into the storm. Chanting an old melody in hopes to calm the little ones, he made his way towards his isolated home. By the time he made it, the boy Jak, was trying to clap his hands in time to Myrik's chants wearing a huge grin on his face. The little girl, on the other hand was staring with huge eyes towards the way they came, searching no doubt for her father.

It wasn't long before Samos arrived at Myrik's home, knocking the mud off of his wooden stumps-like shoes and trying to rid himself of as much water as possible. When he finally looked around, he couldn't help but to stare, awe-struck as he walked fully into the home. He was standing at the heart of the sacred sight. It took several moments before he was able to compose himself again, lucky that Myrik was busy drying off the children and re-dressing them in warm dry clothes.

"Sorry, but I only have Daxter's spare clothes so your daughter will have to make due at the moment," Myrik said as he slipped the baggy tunic over the blue and green haired girls head. Jak was already dressed and exploring the home.

Samos nodded. "Don't worry, as long as they are both dry and warm the spare clothes will do fine. Once the storm has cleared up and daylight returned I'll see about talking to the Mayor about staying."

"You're welcome to stay here. All I ask in return is that if you teach your children, you include Daxter in those lessons and that if anything befalls me, you will be his guardian."

Thinking about it a moment, Samos nodded slowly. "That can be arranged. And speaking of the child, where is he?" he really hoped he wasn't going to be dealing with an ugly fuzzy tiny rat.

The young man laughed then stood up and glanced towards the loft. "He is up there, watching us." Stepping back he held out his arms. "Aren't you imp?" he called out, moments later catching a giggling child in his arms and swinging him about.

Said child giggled again and hugged his father's neck. Then turning he leaned back and waved to the other two children, "Hi! You gonna be my new friends? Huh? Huh? Please? We can have fun together and go swimming and exploring and.. and … you gonna be my friends?... who's that funny old man? Why's he green? He looks funny, why he has a big stick in his head?" He turned and stuck his tongue out at Samos, making a face then laughing squirmed out of his father's arms to meet up close with the other two.

"Eh… sorry, he's a …"

"Hyperactive.." Samos suggested with 'troublemaker' added to himself.

"Yeah, excitable. There are no other children here in the village he can play with so he's been lonely with only me and occasionally Mrs. Perch to play with." An apologetic shrug was offered as Myrik went about picking up the wet clothes and laying them along a rope strung out for just that purpose. His rain cape already draped over it near the door.

"I think that is a requirement for all children at one point or another. Don't worry about it too much; I'm sure he will settle down in time…"

In a little under a season, Samos was accepted as a valuable member of the village due to being a Green Eco sage. Keira and Jak were also accepted warmly into the village. It was disheartening to Myrik, who had been in the village for two years, to be considered an outsider still. While he learned to just ignore the words, his son hadn't learned quite yet how to. The sometimes malicious words of the adults cut the child to the bone, which would in turn cause Myrik to become defensive towards the others. It was especially difficult to keep a civil tongue when Samos was the one to utter hash words. Yes the man was a sage, but that did not give him the right to try and dictate how and what Myrik should worship or even that he taught his son the old ways as well.

The summer solstice was fast approaching when Myrik made his decision. He would leave the village, giving the sage the home he had built. He would take his son Daxter with him as they headed north and west to find the remaining survivors of his home village. But it was not to be.

Summer storms were known to arrive with little to no warning, lashing land and ocean alike with fierce winds and deadly lightning. It was during the early afternoon while Myrik was out to sea fishing that one such storm came into being. Before he could turn about and head for land the sudden gale force winds cause the mast to bend then break and shredded the sails in the process, leaving him to the mercy of the huge waves and strong currents.

When the storm had abated leaving the evening skies clear once more, the only trace of Myrik's boat was bites of sail and a broken mast. The villagers were more saddened by the loss of the boat then the loss of Myrik. They were also at a loss of what to do with his son, Daxter. Who now would take care of the impudent child? The only logical choice was Samos the Green Eco Sage.

For Daxter, life had just gone from enjoyable to barely tolerable under the same roof as Samos. He resented Samos, for in the thinking of a five year old, 'grandpa green' as he was not so kindly called, was the one responsible for his father vanishing and his life being made a living hell. It was only with Jak's constant friendship and support did he managed to survive to grow up.

_20 years before the founding of Haven City….._

A sleigh like machine that a young blue-green haired girl called a rift rider sat before a large precursor warp gate. A young green-blonde haired boy with a red-orange ottsel perched on his shoulder stood to the other side, waiting. The trio climbed aboard, waiting on the final member of the group to join them. It was a few moments later that the grump, green-tinted eco sage also climbed in.

It was only a handful of minutes before the quartet and the rift rider gone, leaving behind a still active and open precursor warp gate. That open gate allowed the hoards of merciless killing beasts to descend upon the defenseless village of Sandover.

No one would know if there were any survivors for a very long time.

_Year 0HC….._

Even though Haven City and its walls were completed before the fall of that year, it was agreed upon that a new calendar would not start until winter released its hold over the land and spring took its place. The man responsible for Haven City and its walls was a man named Mar. He never asked for the position of leader, but it was his none the less. He became the founder of a new legacy. The House of Mar.

A new start to go with a new year, and with it, the promise of hope for the future for in the spring of 0HC, the first heir of the House of Mar was born.

_Year 3HC…._

An old blind man was escorted through the western gates of Haven City by his son. The old man had faded red and gold hair, and had his eyes not been milky white, they would have been a shade of white blue sky. The son's eyes were more green-gold and his hair an orange-red color. When the guards at the gate asked their information, the son questioned why. It was explained that the information would go into the archives of the city incase anything happened. The old blind man simply nodded and provided the requested information.

"My name is Myrik, I am a…or was, the wise-man of our village before it was over-run. This is my son, Errol."

The gate guard logged the information then provided the pair with a layout of the city so they could find their way about. "The city council has openings, you may want to apply for one of the positions having been a village wise-man," the guard said.

"Thank you, I'll keep it in mind," Myrik replied as the pair walked away. It pained him to remember his first child Daxter, who would have been 38 years of age and most likely married with a child of his own. Had he survived what had befallen Sandover Village that is.

"Father?" Errol asked in concern to the melancholy sigh he heard from his father.

"Don't worry my son, just an old man remembering the past."

"Ah," Error nodded as he glanced around. "I wish I had met my elder brother."

"So do I my son, so do I."

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In the year 534HC… Praxis was born to a Haven City noble family.

In the year 538HC… Samos was born to a family in a tiny village some distance from Haven City.

In the year 541HC… Veger, Half-brother of Praxis, was born to a Haven City upper middle class family.

In the year 542HC… Kleiver was born to a Wastelander woman in Spargus city.

In the year 543HC…. Damas, Heir to the House of Mar was born in Haven City.

In the year 562HC… Torn was born to a poor family from the slums of Haven City.

In the year 563HC… Erol was born to a middle class family in Haven City.

In the year 565HC… Sig was born to a Wastelander family in Spargus City.

In the year 569HC… Ashelin, daughter of Baron Praxis of Haven City, was born.

In the year 571HC… Tess was born to a merchant family in Haven City.

In the year 572HC… Deep in the forest north west of Haven City, a child was born with the markings of a high priestess of the Four-Fold Goddess. After much arguing, it was decided she would be named Tezcatapolic SmokingMirror. But to save everyone from a tongue twisting headache, she was simply called Tezcat.

In the year 583HC… A trio of Ottsels were born deep in the same forest north west of Haven City. First born was Ari, second born was Lany, last born was Valkryn.

In the year 586HC… Mar, Heir to the House of Mar, was born to King Damas of Haven City.

In the year 587HC… Keira, daughter to Samos the Green Eco Sage, was born in Haven City.

In the year 587HC… Many things changed in Haven City.

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(A/N pt 2: This is obviously AU since Jak & Daxter: the Lost Frontier came out. From what I read that game is suppose to happen just a little bit after Jak 3 which throws Jak X Combat Racer out the timeline as well… unless that happened AFTER J&D:TLF….no clue. Don't have the game yet either.

I am not Anti-Samos, Anti-Keira… for some reason those two just annoy/irk me. While there should not be any Samos & Keira bashing in this story, I'm not exactly going to paint them in a good light either.

While I believe in Higher Powers That Be, I don't endorse any one religion over another. Just remember, Samos was born in the future and thus his religions viewpoints would have been much different than those of the past.

Yes, I am implying that Erol of the games is a very distant descendent/related to Daxter. Yes that Errol looks like the Game Erol (just minus the KG tattoos of course).

Timelines are of my creations, though if I appear to be using the same as another author, it's totally by unconscious chance. After all I did go through all 83+ pages of J&D fanfic before starting this!

If it happened in game, I'm skipping it for the most part. I do plan on using a few events here and there as needed though.

And yes, there is an OFC, but I'm gonna try my damnedest to for her to Not to be Mary-Sue-ish, nor do I have any plans on pairing her with Jak, Tork, Ash, Sig, Dax, Tess or anyone else for that matter. Same goes for the Terrible Trio of Ottsels.

Word count: 3250 (give or take)  
Page count: 7


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N pt 1: Warning… I ramble in this one, plus I was aiming for a little on the humorous side of things. No clue if I hit the mark or not. I own nothing but those characters you don't recognize. Everyone else belongs to Naughty Dog, Inc.)

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_In the year 586HC… Mar, Heir to the House of Mar, was born to King Damas of Haven City._

_In the year 587HC… Many things changed in Haven City._

If asked, the citizens of Haven city would tell you many different reasons why Baron Praxis succeeded in a coup against King Damas. If one asked a former member of the Grand Council why and how, you would be greeted with chilly and or hostile silence. And if one asked the members of Haven City's guard, they would tell you it was because King Damas lost his will to fight and his focus of destroying the metalheads after his wife's death. The truth will likely never be known because after all, history is written by the winners. And in this case the winners of that coup are either no longer alive, or no longer talking.

It is thought by some of the older citizens that the beginnings of Baron Praxis's coup started years earlier, when King Damas refused to marry for political reasons. Even though he knew that a political marriage bed had its uses, the cons far outweighed the pros in his eyes. Very few political marriages had anything even close to resembling love. His own parents were a shining example of that. It was a well known secret with the servants of the palace that both the king and queen fought with each other like a pair of snarling crocadogs, they no longer slept in the same bed together anymore and both had lovers on the side. Though in public they were the perfect loving couple.

You see, once Damas was old enough, he started splitting his time between scholarly pursuits and militaristic objectives. As much as he loved and respected his father, he did not want to be like his father when it came time for him to take up the role of King of Haven City. His father was more of a scholar and less of a warrior, someone who allowed the commander of the guards to make all the plans for the battles against the metalheads. No, Damas planed on being the person who helped plan the battles as well as the person who lead the charge.

Damas's ideas of being a warrior king did not sit well with the grand council either. Positions on the grand council had become damned hear hereditary. Everyone that sat on the grand council had been voted in by their parents' allies as had their parents before them (for several generations back), thus ensuring only certain families ever had a seat. Add that to the fact that the position of King of Haven City had become something closer to a figure head instead of a real leader and the commander of the guard had become the real fighting power behind the throne. No, to say the grand council was not pleased was an understatement.

When Damas reached his majority at 16, he had completed as much of his schooling as he wanted to deal with and headed straight for the guard. He wasn't stupid or mentally slow, he just felt that as the future king, he needed to know how to lead the guard against the metalheads more then he needed to know how to recite old literature. He knew the history of Haven City and he knew of the history of his own family line, the House of Mar. He could read the older Precursor language just as easily as the modern and he knew his mathematics was on par with the higher ranking officers of the guard. He also knew how to decipher a political conversation to avoid all the traps, dead ends and pit falls, but it didn't mean he wanted to do so for the rest of his life either.

When Damas entered the Guard, he went through boot camp just like everyone else. He was shown no special or preferential treatment; nothing was made easier for him because of who he was, if anything at times it was made harder for just that reason. Once out of boot camp, he was placed in one of the worst squads ever seen within the Guard. If there were any competition events, then that squad always came in last with the poorest scores and the worst times. The squad was nicknamed the Death Squad, because without fail anyone assigned to that squad suffered the death of their guard career. That is, until Damas was assigned to the squad.

A little over a year later and the squad Damas had been assigned to was considered one of the better squads in the Guard. One of the few times he pulled his rank as Heir to the Throne was when he caught wind of his impending squad re-assignment. He stayed in his squad until he was promoted at the age of eighteen to Private and was given his command of his own squad. It became something of a challenge over the next year to turn his squad of misfits into something worth being called guardsmen. While he couldn't disprove his promotion to corporal was just given to him, he couldn't prove it either, so at nineteen he rose in the ranks. For the next three years, he commanded a platoon of twenty guards and two privates through several dozen skirmishes with metalheads. Along the way he lost a few good guardsmen and a private, but he understood that death was the price in Haven City's quest to destroy the metalheads. At twenty-two, Damas became a sergeant and lead a company. When he became a lieutenant, he was twenty-seven and at thirty-two he hit his highest rank, that of captain, before his father's death and his ascendance to King of Haven City. His mother took the opportunity to renounce any claim on the throne then left Haven City for elsewhere. The official lie was that living in Haven City was too painful for her after her husband's death. The unofficial truth was she hated living in a city that was under the constant threat of invasion from the metalheads and decided to move to Kras city, home town of her current lover. Kras city was 'More exciting' as she put it. Damas loved his mother but could no longer tolerate her presence so he gave his blessings on her departure and left it at that.

During those seventeen years Damas served in the Guard, another man was also rising in the ranks and making a name for himself. Praxis was the son of one of the greater noble houses of Haven City, he was also a die-hard military man from the word go. He knew of his half-brother, Veger and detested that Veger had weaseled his way into being a lackey for his own father who was a council member. But he would also be the first to agree that Veger had his uses. He was a sergeant when Damas became a guardsman. In fact he was the sergeant in command of the Guard Company Damas was assigned to. That made it easy to track the young heir, though Praxis' not so subtle attempt to influence Damas (i.e. the squad re-assignment) proved that when it came to clandestine operations, he was not the best one for the job. By his early thirties, the soon to be Baron married the daughter of a political ally, cementing the alliance between the two noble families even further. A few years later she bore him only one child, a daughter that they named Ashelin. She was his one and only child for his wife and parents died with a dozen or so others when a small group of metalheads managed to slip into the city's northern gardens. The only reason Ashelin survived was due to a simple childhood illness which kept her home. His entire world was tilted on its axis after that. He started demanding rigid militaristic obedience from his child, who he expected to follow in his footsteps and join the Guard.

But enough of the past for now and back to the reason, possible or real, for the coup. Damas, as soon as he became King, was inundated with invitations to gatherings and parties. Events that he considered, in the light of Haven City's war with the metalheads, frivolous. He also disliked having every eligible female of breeding age shoved at him in hopes of snagging a marriage. It was learned real quick that trying to sneak into his bed, either before or after he retired for the night, resulted in the person being ejected from the palace in whatever they were wearing when he found them. Most of those publicly humiliated were wearing some form of clothing. Skimp night gowns, sheer panties and bras, a corset and stockings once, and a few in nothing but what they were born with. Yes indeed, getting burned taught one real fast to not play with fire.

Once he became King, Damas did not stop his training with the guard. He continued on with the regular physical training with members of his original platoon. It was probably the reason why that group of guards was so damned loyal to him that when the coup did take place, they fought tooth and nail to the last man standing. It was during his training that he met a feisty yet down to earth captain by the name of Ahlela who treated him no different from any other member of the guard under her command. He had to use his position to find out more about her after she refused, even after having been given a royal command, to tell him more than her name and rank.

Ahlela's answer to his order was simple and direct. "When you can best me in the combat arena, I will answer one question and one question only. The more you want to know, the more times you'll have to win."

Damas was left standing there, both pissed off and intrigued at the same time. No one else had ever stood up to him and refused a royal command like she had. And he was foolish enough to challenger her then and there to an unarmed duel in the combat arena. When it was all said and done with, he was left prostrate in the dirt and she was walking away, waving over one shoulder telling him better luck next time. At the age of thirty-four, he was nowhere near the great warrior he would be in years to come. It took a more than a score of times of this happening to get it through his rather thick skull that until he earned her respect, he wasn't getting anywhere with her. No one could say that he did not learn from his mistakes, just that he took longer to learn this than he did anything else. Finally, two months after the first initial encounter with Ahlela, Damas made his first step in gaining her respect and later her hand in marriage.

Damas timed his approach to Ahlela till after she had dismissed her platoon of newbie guards. "Captain Ahlela," he called as he was crossing the training grounds.

The captain's ears twitched back, the only indication she had heard him as she signed off a report then handed it to the waiting corporal. After she had done that she turned, giving a sloppy salute to the king. "What does the yapper want this time, eh?" she asked. "Another go in the arena? Do ya like the taste of dirt that much?" her dark blue eyes going past Damas to the platoon of guards that had gathered behind him.

Damas gritted his teeth at both the tone and the words but chose to ignore it. Instead he straightened to his full height, balled his right fist and brought it up to rest knuckles flat against his left palm, then bowed. "I respectfully ask that you teach me your ways of fighting."

She raised one eyebrow and tilted her head to the side studying the bowed man before her. Straightening her head once more she reached up and removed her helmet. Dark green hair in dreadlocks was tied together at the nape of her neck. "All of ya?" she asked as she ran her right hand through the dreads, letting the breeze cool her head.

"I do not speak for my men, it is their choice if they wish to learn."

Ahlela once more looked at the platoon of men. Once by one they copied what their king had done till all were bowed before her. "Hn… Well if ya blighters wana give it a go," she shook her head with a chuckle and put her helmet back on again before crossing her arms. "Fine. Starting tomorrow, meet me here in full combat armor and gear at noon." With that she turned and walked away. Here being the middle of the open training fields with absolutely no shade what so ever.

If you're wondering about who Ahlela is or rather was, well that is rather simple. Ahlela had dark green hair and dark blue eyes and stood just shy of six foot tall. She was born to a family of traveling merchant traders. When she was but a small child, the ship her and her family was on ran afoul of sea marauders off the Spargus coastline. By the time the battle was over, she was one of three survivors who made it ashore. She was taken in and taught the ways of the Wastelanders. By the time she was of age she had earned her completed battle amulet as well as earned the right to wear the flame tattoo on her right wrist. The Spargus rulers always had spies in the 'Big Smoke' (Haven City) as well as other places. She volunteered to head to Haven City and find a place from where she could report back on a regular basis. Once she established herself in the city, she entered into the guard and worked her way up over the next seventeen years till she reached her current rank of Captain. During that time the ruler Spargus had changed several times, but she still faithfully reported back.

It took Damas nearly four years before he could best Ahlela more than half the time they dueled. His platoon couldn't say that but they could best anyone else in the guard on a regular basis. It made them something of the elite of the elite guard. A converted position that the only way to get was by death of a current member and by winning a no-holds-barred competition. It took Damas another year before she finally gave into his request and married him. She refused though to leave her position in the guard and became a warrior queen. Damas was thirty-nine, Ahlela was forty. Both knew the chances of her conceiving at that age was less than if she was younger.

The pair was rather an odd couple. When they argued over something both felt strongly about, it inevitably ended up in the combat arena as a means of settling the dispute. Winner three out of five falls was considered the victor. To those in the guard it was honestly an amusing, if slightly violent way of deciding the outcome. To the grand council it was scandalous, barbaric and downright crude, not to mention it gave the throne of Haven City a rather bad name. They thought it made them look like those uncouth barbarians in the wasteland. To the citizens of Haven City, well it mattered not as long as the walls held strong, food wasn't scare and crime didn't run amuck.

In the four years of marriage between Damas and Ahlela, four events stood out amongst all the rest. The first was the failed attempt at destroying the metalhead nest. Two-thirds of the guards were wiped out, Baron Praxis was horribly wounded to such an extent that he lost most of the right side of his face. Cybernetics, while not new was certainly not an everyday occurrence, was used to replace the missing pieces of his face and head. His mental stability slid even farther off kilter after that, allowing his half-brother Veger to plant the seeds of dissention in the fertile fields. When the survivors were gathered together and the guard command restructured, a young officer by the name of Torn was given the position of second in command of the guard. The guard had been renamed the Krimson Guard in honor of the fallen members and everyone willingly went through the process of having tattoos placed on their faces, ears, shoulders, arms and other areas. Each tattoo represented a person or unit that did not survive the assault.

The second event was the knock-down, no holds barred, anything goes brawl (it couldn't be called anything less) between Damas and Ahlela over her seeming inability to become pregnant and her demand that he take a younger, more fertile mistress to his bed for the sake of continuing the Mar bloodline. It didn't help matters that Baron Praxis had offered his daughter Ashelin as "breeding stock"; she was barely sixteen at the time. The pair discovered the ability to channel eco quite unexpectedly in the middle of that brawl when they ended up traversing over and through (read: fell through) the roof of a storage unit containing raw, unprocessed eco. If it hadn't been for that, the brawl would have ended much earlier than it did. Both the king and queen were bloody, bruised and falling on their faces in exhaustion by the time it was all over, needless to say the make-up sex was rather fantastic for both, especially when green eco was tossed into the mix. Well the result of that little event was discovered about 3 months down the line. Ahlela was finally pregnant.

The third and fourth events took place so close together, they might as well been just one event. Due to complications, Ahlela was forced into bed rest for the last three months of her pregnancy. It was suspected that the injuries she sustained then healed with eco during her brawl with Damas was the culprit. Forced bed rest was a blow to the proud warrior. It was during this time when Veger, who'd become chairman of the grand council, would visit her on pretense of wanting her thoughts on the rulings of the grand council and the laws that were on the books. During once such visit he had small 'sample' vials of eco with him so that he could 'discuss' the quality of eco the city was currently using. Somehow the seals on those vials were not properly placed and the eco leaked out, but it wasn't Ahlela who absorbed and channeled it. No, it was her unborn child who somehow channeled it. Much to her displeasure, the amount of kicking and activity in her belly after that proved that her son would be a very powerful eco channeler. The eco had an unexpected down side in that it advanced the growth of her and Damas's son causing Ahlela to go into labor several weeks early. The timing of which could not have been worse. With a grim outcome facing the doctors, Damas's presence was requested. He arrived from the battlefield, still in his blood and gore covered battle gear, to be with her till the end. Mar, son of King Damas and Queen Ahlela, Heir of the Great House of Mar and to the throne of Haven City was born. Queen Ahlela lost the battle to live soon after and passed onto the great beyond. Damas, in one fell swoop, had his world shattered when he became both a new father and a widower.

The fourth and last event occurred a few hours after the queen went into labor. Metalheads had breached the walls in the north eastern quadrant of the city. The KG in the area at the time was met with overwhelming odds and few survived long enough for re-enforcements to arrive. Damas as well as Praxis were among those fighting. Just when they thought they had turned the tide of battle, more metalheads arrived. The area which had been gained at the cost of many lives was once more overrun. During the battle, Damas was informed of his wife's labor. He had to make a choice. Stay here with his men, fighting for the lives of the citizens or go and be with her during the birth of their child. Praxis took the decision from his hands and forced him to go. Little did Damas know it was the beginning of the end of his reign as King of Haven City. After Damas was gone, Baron Praxis passed the silent order for all KG to retreat behind the newly erected eco barrier walls. Anyone who did not make it past the barrier before it went up was left behind. Amongst those left behind, the KG 2IC Torn as well as a green eco sage named Samos. Torn could never explain how the eco sage was able to hold off the metalheads long enough for everyone left behind to escape.

When it was discovered the King Damas left the battlefield before everyone else, faith in his rule was shaken. When he refused anything to do with battling metalheads or ruling the city during the next six months after his son's birth and his wife's death, his support crumbled. Only those in what was known as Damas's Platoon were the only supporters he had amongst the KG. Those that supported neither side followed orders with few questions asked. Torn was promoted to Commander of the KG and another officer, Erol, was promoted to Second in Command when Baron Praxis took up the position of 'temporary ruler' of Haven City.

Six months later, one year after Mar was born, Baron Praxis succeeded in his coup against Damas. Veger was able to sneak in and steal Mar from his nursery with the assistance of Erol. Torn was forced to lead an assault against Damas's Platoon in order to arrest Damas. The price for taking Damas alive was very costly. None of Damas's Platoon survived, three times that was lost or severely wounded on the side of Praxis's KG. In the end, Damas was exiled to the wasteland with only the clothes he was wearing, his wife's battle amulet and her battle staff. Veger, along with a squad of KG, was the one to take him to the wasteland thinking that he would not survive more than a few days. When Praxis discovered what had been done with Damas he was more than just a little pissed off. He had wanted to execute Damas in public, to ensure the House of Mar was dead, but seeing how he could no longer do that, he settled for deciding to kill the child instead. The argument between the half-brothers was over heard by several servants, who took it upon themselves to keep the child's death from happening. Seeing that no one really pays attention to the palace servants, it was scarily easy for them to smuggle the child out of the palace and into the care of someone opposed to Baron Praxis's tyrannical rule.

But that's a story for another time.

**

* * *

**

(A/N 2: I just had to give homage to Red Mage 04 and his Delta Unit, because without his influence, Damas's Platoon of absolutely loyal guards just wouldn't exist.

I really should have been working on my math homework instead of this. LOL oh well.)


	3. Chapter 3

Turning of the Wheel 03  
A Jak and Daxter fanfic  
By PhantomChajo

(A/N pt 1: Who needs Daxter the Ottsel when they have a cat that can be just as noisy, demanding and cuddly? Chapter lengths will vary depending on what's happening (expect the occasional under 1K word count), and slow updating is mostly due to trying to get the right feel to everything.

I own nothing but those characters you don't recognize. Everyone else belongs to Naughty Dog, Inc.)

-o-

In the first six months of Mar's life, the only person who he had constant contact with was his farther, Damas (and a handful of the palace servants whom no one ever pays attention in the first place.) Because of the depth of Damas's grief and depression over the loss of his wife, he rarely spoke in the first few months. Because of that, Mar very little in the way of examples when it came to vocalizations. As time progressed and Damas started to speak again, Mar was able to pick up more on sounds and how to make them. Mar did learn how to communicate his wants and needs through facial expressions and body language (well as much as an infant can at that stage in life).

Amongst those un-acknowledged servants, one stood out more than the rest to Damas. He knew her simply as Nana, the woman who helped raise him when his own mother couldn't be bothered. When in that six month self-imposed isolation anything happened to Mar, Damas turned to her for help, even when he did it unconsciously. No words were needed, just that helpless 'what do I do?!?' panicked look of a new, inexperienced parent. Nana was a woman experienced in raising children. With her own five children and a dozen or more grand children she knew when to step in and help and when to back off and let the parents take the brunt of the problem. For the most part, she would show him what to do the first time then let him do it the second, repeating instructions as needed. Damas proved what a fast learner he was because he never needed to be told the same thing more than twice before he got it.

When Mar was just two months old, Damas got the pleasure of experiencing a colicky baby. Damas was beyond stressed when Nana finally stepped in to help. Before anything could be said, she took Mar from his father and shooed him off to get a hot bath, food and some sleep. When he started to protest she firmly reminded him that she dealt with his own bout of colic as well as changed his nappies so his son was in good hands. Within a few hours, the royal quarters were once again quite. Damas was stretched out flat on his back with Mar asleep on his chest. Nana managed to snap a picture without the king being aware of it. Another photo to go in the 'Nana's album potentially embarrassing blackmail photos dealing with the royal family'. That picture went right along with the one of 'first feeding & burping experience' (complete with milky-white spit-up down Damas's back and a confused look of trying figure out why his back was now wet). 'First nappy' (an expression of utter confusion as to how such a small infant could create such a huge and disgusting mess on Damas's face). And later on when Mar was a little older, 'bath time fun' (Damas and Mar both in the bathtub, the older male making all sorts of funny faces at a giggling, splashing baby). All the photos and memorabilia of when Damas was a child making up the first half of the large photo album while everything dealing with Mar went in the back half. Nana also had one of Ashelin seeing how she was raised in the Palace as well, but that's for another time.

The next six months were challenging in a completely different way. When Damas did start venturing outside of the royal family quarters it was for short periods of time and never with Mar. Though he wasn't with him Mar was never alone, Nana was always around as well as a couple well trusted servants and at least two of Damas's Platoon. Damas used his memories of how his own father acted when he was growing up as a template of what to try and avoid when it came to Mar. Since Praxis has managed to take over his office, which didn't bother him as much as one would think seeing how he used the hands on approach, Damas would bring anything he had to work on back to his quarters. Many a time Nana or one of the other servants would find the end tables, coffee table, couch & chairs covered in documents and Damas stretched out on the floor playing with Mar. The King was leery of allowing anyone into what he considered his private sanctuary, at least until Mar was a little older. But once it was known he wasn't isolating himself any longer, the inevitable flood of requests to visit came in. There was a few that he could not deny, but that did not mean he had to let them control the situation.

Baron Praxis and his daughter, Ashelin, were the first visitors Damas accepted into his private quarters since Mar was born. Damas kept an eye on the two as well as an ear on Mar while Nana was lurking in the background shadows. Once the ice was thawed a little, Damas and Praxis moved onto talking about the trials and tribulations of raising a child. As the two older men talked, a seventeen year old Ashelin turned to watch Mar in his play pen. She was dressed casually that day, no armor or weapons on her by order of her father and she felt rather uncomfortable about it. Ashelin stood by the pen, arms crossed as she watched Mar laying on his back, giggle softly as he reached for the brightly colored shapes dangling from the over-head mobile. Turning away, she watched her father and King Damas laugh about something or other and sighed.

"Do be a sweetheart Ashelin and take Mar out of the pen for me," came a soft voice from the near-by doorway.

Ashelin turned to the voice, confused for only a moment as she recognized the person. "Nana, it's good to see you again." She smiled and moved to give the older woman a hug. Afterwards, she glanced back to Mar who seemed to have focused on the two of them for the moment. "I'm not sure… I mean I've never…" she trailed off.

"Nonsense deary, just reach down and scoop him up. Be sure to support his head though when you do," Nana instructed as she took an old towel off her shoulder.

Ashelin glanced over her shoulder towards King Damas, an eyebrow raised slightly as she realized he had been watching her. It was only when he gave a subtle nod of his head did she move to pick Mar up out of the play pen. Between one moment and the next she found herself seated in a comfortable rocker with an old towel draped over one shoulder, bottle in hand and Mar securely settled in the crook of her arm. Nana was a force to be reckoned with when she wished it.

Damas watched how Mar accepted Ashelin without a fuss. He was only slightly surprised when his son fell asleep so easily in another person's arms after being feed. He did not linger on the painful idea that Ashelin could have just as easily been Mar's birth mother for that would have meant Ahlela would still be alive today. He concluded that Mar would not have looked right with red or reddish blond hair either. He then mentally shook his head and focused back on what Praxis was saying.

The next visitor Damas had to deal with was the Chairman of the Grand Council and all his pompous glory (please note the sarcasm there). Damas had chosen a time when he knew Mar would be getting cranky from lack of a snack and a nap. It would be a good excuse to move his son to another room so that they could talk 'in a quieter setting without a fussy child to deal with'.

Veger… excuse me Count Veger (again pardon the sarcasm)… brought with him as a bodyguard the commander of the KG, Torn. Damas could tell the younger man was not pleased at all to be treated as such nor was he happy to have to be in the royal quarters without permission from the King himself. Veger brought with him, as a 'present' of course, a set of brightly colored geometrically shaped toys for young Mar. Before Nana could say a word in protest, Veger dropped the 'toys' into the play pen, almost on top of Mar then turned his back and walked (compete with nose-in-the-air swagger) to speak with Damas. The chairman missed the narrow-eyed look of disgust shared by both Nana and Torn, but Damas did not.

Mar did not like the new toys. They made him feel funny in a not good way. He did not want to go near them but in order to move he would have to. He was not happy and made his displeasure known as he whimpered, ready to go into full cry mode. Before he could though, the toys were moved by a not-daddy-or-nana thing. Sniffling, he craned his head back to see what the not-daddy-or-nana thing was and almost fell over but was stopped by something. Mar was confused and he did not like being confused. Especially when he was taken from his pen by an unknown thing. His face screwed up in preparation for a full out scream of fright/displeasure when puff of air across his face followed by a low crooning distracted him.

With a few striding steps, Torn had cross the room behind Veger's back and swept the toys away from the King's son. Snagging the baby blank which had been crumpled up in the corner of the pen, he settled it over one shoulder then easily reached down and picked the soon to be screaming child up. From his time in one of the slum crèches (both growing up and helping out) he knew how to handle an infant and even though he was battle experience guard, he could still be gentle. All he had to do was blow gently across the child's face as distraction, and then start crooning a lullaby as he settled Mar against his only slightly padded shoulder and the child quieted. Throwing another disgusted look over his shoulder at Veger's back, he nodded to King Damas and turned towards Nana. The older woman waved him to follow her into the nursery. A few minutes later, he came back out and took up a parade rest stance near the door. When Veger finally decided to leave, Damas requested Torn stay a moment.

"You handled yourself well today when dealing with Mar," Damas stated.

"Thank you sir," Torn replied in that gravelly voice of his. "I might not like dealing with kids, but even I know you don't just drop stuff in a play pen like that."

"Oh?" Damas arched an eyebrow in a silent 'do explain' order.

While Torn wasn't the proudest when it came to his heritage, he wasn't exactly embarrassed about it either. "I grew up in one of the slum crèches sir, helped out after lessons by lending a hand. I learned real fast how to keep them calm, quiet and settled. Best way to get a kid screaming is to first startle them then to corner them with whatever upset them." Torn looked away as he weighed his choice of words, "Baron Praxis is making changes that don't feel right and Count Veger has been nosing around the eco storage units muttering about having a channeler under his control. We need you back on your throne and in command sir."

Damas nodded in agreement. "Patience is a warrior's greatest weapon (*). Sometimes a warrior must do things he is not proud of in order to survive the battle and win the war." With that Damas nodded once then dismissed Torn.

Torn saluted then left the royal quarters, the advice of his king rattling around in his mind.

Veger visited one more time before the coup but with the KG second in command, Erol. This time Damas and Nana both agreed to take Mar into the nursery before they even got there. Once again Veger left behind a 'gift', this time a quilted baby blanket. Only after the two was gone did Nana bring Mar back out into the main room, and like before he avoided Veger's gift like it was a metalhead. It was Damas who picked up the offending item though instead of Nana. Having channeled eco before he knew the stinging, cold bite was from raw blue and yellow eco. After a few moments of searching he found the hot sensation of red eco and the gentle relief of green eco. The offending item went straight into the kitchen disposal shoot to be incinerated with the rest of the palace garbage. Damas found the toys which was left from the last visit by Veger and found the identical feelings with those, and like the blanket they were also disposed of, after he absorbed the eco that is.

When the coup finally took place, father and son had been in different locations. Damas in the throne room where he was attempting to keep order and the now one year old Mar was in the royal nursery with one of the trusted servants. It was Nana's day off otherwise she would have suffered the same fate as the servant when Veger and Erol came for Mar. The two platoon members guarding the royal quarters fought valiantly but fell under the greater odds. The servant was shot in the back as she attempted to flee with Mar. Veger was rather pissed with Erol seeing how the KG second in command could have killed Mar by accident, not to mention thanks to that the child was now screaming his head off and fighting with all his might.

In the throne room, Damas and the surviving platoon members were barricaded behind whatever they could use. Torn, in a moment of desperate hope that it would not come to an all out slaughter, tried to reason with the King. "King Damas, sir! If you would just…If you would just give yourself up we can avoid any further bloodshed."

"Do you remember my words commander?" Damas asked instead.

It took Torn a few moments to remember but he did. "Yes sir."

"Then you know my answer to the request to surrender," Damas replied back.

With a heavy heart, Torn stepped back and ordered his men to try and take the King alive if at all possible. It was also the beginning of the end of Torn's position as Commander of the KG.

Though injured, Damas was finally taken prisoner after several hours and the death of over sixty guards and the likely death of a handful more that were fatally wounded. Torn wasn't without injuries either, though his was only marginally lighter than the rest of the guard. The one slice on his right cheek, courtesy of Damas himself, was defiantly going to scar. Two days later, without any treatment to his injures, Damas was exiled into the wasteland to die.

Almost two weeks had passed since Veger had taking Mar and Baron Praxis's coup. In that time the child had continued to cry, whine and whimper. He refused to eat, slept fitfully and reacted negatively to any and everyone with the exception of two people. Torn and Ashelin. Much to the disgust of Torn who was on enforced light duty, he ended up dealing with the cranky one year old more often than the eighteen year old Ashelin who just didn't have the motherly instincts needed at the time to deal with the child.

Torn had just gotten Mar to sleep when a pair of servants entered the temporary nursery Veger had had setup. While he couldn't put his finger on it, he knew something wasn't right with the pair. His suspicions were confirmed when one of the two pulled a gun on him. It was easy to tell the servant holding the weapon had no training what so ever and in no time flat, injured or not, Torn had the servant disarmed. Being the commander of the KG and having a rather intimidating presence when he wanted, it was easy to get the servants to talk. His disgust at Veger now included the Baron. Making his decision he glanced around the room then took the small hamper from the corner of the room. Dumping out the dirty items, he lined the basket with clean blankets, a few extra dippers, a travel pack of wet naps (Veger was too cheap to get anything else) and a few other essentials then placed sleeping child into it. Covering it so that it looked like a full basket he nodded once and then dismissed the servants. From a side pocket of his pants he pulled out a bottle of meds, selected a few and swallowed them dry before settling himself once more in the rocker that once belonged in the royal nursery.

It was hours before anyone discovered Mar was gone and as much as Veger wanted to blame Torn, he couldn't because in a roundabout way, the commander had ensured that Mar would live long enough for him to put his own plans into action.

For the next year it was a game of muse and rat between the KG and those opposed to the Baron's rule. During that time Mar was moved around so often that he had little chance to form any sort of attachment to any person, place or thing. When other children his age had started to speak, Mar was still silent. Oh, he made sounds like any child his age would, but he was very quiet about it, as if he didn't want anyone to notice him. If a child psychologist studied him, they would probably decide his lack of vocalization was a result of some traumatic experience early on and they would be correct. Making any type of noise louder than a soft whisper resulted in him being yanked away from whatever he was doing and stuffed into a small, dark and often smelly area for what seemed to be a very long time in his mind. He found that the quieter he was, the longer he could play or do whatever he was doing without punishment. It became a way of life for him, silence even when spoken to.

Between Mar's second and third birthday he met up with someone from his past.

In the months after he let Mar be spirited out of the palace, Torn had started questioning Baron Praxis's orders. Because of that he was trusted less and less by the Baron as well as Veger and the grand council. It didn't take a genius or a huge sign to indicate his days as commander of the KG was numbered. His best guess was that he would die in some 'accident' or be a 'casualty' of the growing hit and run warfare with the group calling itself the Underground. Let's face it; a round in the back would be an accident if he happened to be in the way of a kill shot just as much as being sacrificed to lure out members of the Underground resulted in him being a casualty. As time wore on he started receiving direct orders from the Baron, giving him some of the worst patrol duties a member of the KG ever saw. Back to back patrols in the most dangerous areas without a partner or else with partners who were under orders from the Baron to watch him for any mistakes.

Thanks to the shield walls, Haven City did not experience seasonal changes like other places did. The city did, however, experience ice cold sleet and rain through the winter season thanks to the shield melting the snow as it fell. It was during one of Torn's solo patrols in the water slums that he was caught in one such freezing rain storms. By the time his patrol shift ended and he reached the guard barracks he was soaked to the skin and numb with cold. The pattern repeated itself every few days, though not always with him being in the water slums during the ice cold rain storms. With those conditions it didn't take long for what he thought of as just a bad cold or mild flu to turn into a moderate case of walking pneumonia. When he met up with Ashelin during a patrol, she suggested he cut the patrol short and go see the medic immediately. Torn being Torn, ignored the suggestion and continued on with his patrol claiming he would go later 'when he had time'. At the end of the week he was paying the price for ignoring Ashelin's suggestion.

He was with two other guards when they came across a pair of Underground members moving the heir to the throne from one safe-house to another. Finally making his decision about his situation, he drew his curved combat blade and used it to slice the throat of his fellow guard in front of him. Before he could take out the second member of the patrol, the guard had turned and open fire with his blaster. The first blaster shot hit dead center of his chest. Even with the armor absorbing most of the energy of the blaster shot, which felt like a double hoofed kick from a pissed off yakow on steroids, had knocked him flat on his back. The second went wild as one of the Underground attacked the distracted guard. Between the blaster shot to the chest and his illness, Torn was having major problems getting enough air to stay conscious let alone regain his footing. It took several moments of fumbling with his chin-strap before he was able to dislodge his helmet and draw a marginally deeper breath. In that time the fight was over with, the only casualties was the other two KG.

The two Underground members exchanged looks again after seeing his glassy eyes and sweaty, pale features. The one that had attacked the other KG only needed one good swift hit and Torn was down once more. The first one was busy stripping anything useful from the two dead KG while the second was striping the armor off Torn. Somewhere in the back of his mind, one part of him was surprised that he was still alive while another was pointing out all his mistakes. By the time he started regaining some of his senses and tried to fight off the Underground member, he had been stripped down to his one-piece body-glove. A second hit from the Underground member and black depths of unconsciousness was sucking him under. One of the few things he could remember after being knocked unconscious and waking up as a prisoner of the Underground was coming to unable to breath while trying to fight off the grasping, choking hands then being swallowed up by the cool-warmth of numbing green blackness.

Several weeks had passed before Torn was fully awake and aware. He found himself in a small room with only a basic cot, a rickety table and stool as furniture. On the table was a battered pitcher and equally battered mug. He also found himself wearing absolutely nothing, the course sheet and rough blanket the only thing covering him and feeling weaker than a new-born muse. Once he got himself sitting upright on the side of the bed, he was shaking in exhaustion and covered in sweat. It was also how he first met the Shadow.

In the months that followed, Torn was slowly accepted as having actually defected from the services of Baron Praxis and the KG. He had to work his way up the chain of command just like anyone else who became a member of the Underground. With his help, the Shadow's hit and run plans turned from slightly annoying problems to having to be taken serious by the KG. Like many great commanders, he was an engineer and a tactical genius. Very few of his plans failed once he was taken serious by the rest of the Underground. As an added bonus to his credibility, the kid as Mar had come to be known as, accepted him without hesitation.

Torn's relationship with Mar was an unusual one. While anyone else was around, Torn acted as if the kid was nothing more than a bothersome pest to be ignored. When it was just the two of them, Torn treated Mar with gentleness that only one other had been privileged to witness and in return he was the only one who got to hear Mar speak. When one day an unusually loyal crocadog appeared by Mar's side only Tess caught the sly wink Torn gave the grinning boy.

In 589HC an explosion in the skies above the industrial section rocked Haven City. No one bothered to look up for more than a few moments to be sure they would not be hit by debris. The report made it back to the Underground, but if anything was left behind the KG had already claimed it.

In the two years following that unusual event, the kid was moved around from location to location, keeper to guardian and back again. The crocadog hardly left his side and even learned more than a few tricks along the way. The protective beast even managed to chomp a few KG when they got too close during a move to a new safe-house. From time to time it would vanish for a day or two then show back up again. It was on one such occasion he was with Kor heading from the Underground base to a new place when they met a strange green-blond man in a blue tunic and a talking rat. The man gave off feelings of anger and violence but didn't not of an evil nature, not like the not-good feeling Kor gave off at any rate. When the squad of KG arrived and the man turned into something else, Mar could still tell that the creature wasn't evil just scary in a primitive, wild sort of way. Before he could start to puzzle it out though, Kor had directed the man to the Underground base and was in the process of going the opposite direction. He knew he would be seeing the man again in the future.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

-o-

...

..

(A/N pt 2: If you're reading anything from the Jak & Daxter category here on FFnet then you've probably played the games. Thus I won't be using much from said games, maybe the occasional line here or there until I hit the end of Jak 3.

(*) = Direct quote from Damas when he was talking to Jak during a cut-scene in Jak 3 near the beginning. The rest I most likely heard somewhere before & used it. Either way I can see Damas saying that last bit.

And let's face it, how many people really, REALLY pay attention to servants if they've been raised around them all their life? Nana is the quintessential nanny/pseudo mom, kinda like Robin Williams' Ms. Doubtfire. Nana is a 5'6", 68 yr old woman with gray hair and gray-blue eyes. I'm pretty sure everyone has those embarrassing baby pictures somewhere in a family album, so why not Nana? LOL

Not sure if the next chapter will take place in the time between 2 & 3, or if I'll just go straight to the end of 3. Have to see what the muses turn up.)


	4. Ashelin, where did you get that beacon?

Turning of the Wheel 04

A Jak and Daxter fanfic

By PhantomChajo

(A/N pt 1: How did Ashelin get the beacon and why did she have it? When did she find out that Damas was still alive? And how did she know he was in the Wastelands?

Ahead be more rambling and a tiny bit of Ashelin x Sig with voyeuristic Erol on the side – Nothing graphic though, too lazy for a onetime event.

I own nothing but those characters you don't recognize. Everyone else belongs to Naughty Dog, Inc.)

-o-

"Ashelin, where did you get that beacon?"

_**588HC…**_

The freezing rain was coming down hard enough that only those desperate souls who had no shelter or choice were moving through the streets of the city. Even the KG had abandoned their patrols in favor of finding a drier place to warm up. Any businesses that offered shelter from the rain were doing a booming good time, especially the bars on the waterfront.

As lightening crackled across the sky, it light up the streets below the glowing shields. A single figure trudged through the heavy downpour, avoiding the growing puddles of standing water as well as the runoff from overhangs and rain spouts. That figure was covered in a heavy rain cloak, the hood pulled low to protect from the rain as much as to hide the person's identity. That person's destination was a remote corner of the southern marketplace.

The cloaked figure stood under a closed shop awning as they examined the out of place tent. Around the bottom of the tent walls, softly light seeped out turning the puddles of water into a riot of reds, blues, greens and yellows. They stood there for a long while debating with themselves whether or not to enter the tent. The decision was made for the person when a tiny hand clasp theirs cause the person to look down. The person jerked their hand away then looked around quickly. There was no one there. Looking back in the direction of the tent, the person could have sworn they saw a child dart into the tent with a giggle. With renewed determination the person darted out into the icy cold rain, heading for the tent. As soon as they passed the entrance they felt what could only be considered a barrier, much like the security barriers separating the different sections of the city, yet when they looked back at the tent doorway there was nothing there.

"Aaawwrk! Don't worry, it's always like that when it's raining, or cold, or cold and raining!" squawked a multi-colored Monkaw perched on the wide brimmed hat of a very old woman. "Or whenever she doesn't like the weather outside or the pests…"

The person jerked around, one hand going to their weapon in an automatic response to being startled. The eco-pistol was drawn and aimed as only a well trained guard could do. The monkey-bird hybrid threw up his wings in front of his face, as if they could protect him from an eco-ammo blast. All at the same time, but before any shots could be fired a flash of blue and the eco-pistol lay on the blanket in front of the old woman.

"Who..What are you?" the person asked, clearly spooked about what happened.

It took a little prodding before the monkaw was settled again enough to translate. As the old woman started weaving her hands in strange patterns a glittery blue eco-glow surrounding them, leaving behind trails. "Onin says 'Greetings and salutations daughter of Praxis….blah blah blah… She hopes you are well and assures you that fate and destiny will not leave you behind.'"

"How?... How do you know who I am?" Ashelin asked, confused. "And since when does fate and destiny have anything to do with anything?"

"Don't let the fact she can't see… aarrwwwkk! Fool you. She knows more than even I wish to know.." he shuddered a moment, feathers fluffing up then settling once again. "My name is Pecker.. yes yes mother was vindictive, how many times do I have to … arrrwwkk! Say that! Anyway, Onin says that you do not have to worry about anyone knowing you are here."

The red-head flipped the rain cloak's hood back and shook out her hair. Her ears twitched as she tried to listen though the noise of the rain just in case the patrols were on the move again. She changed topics "Did a kid come running in here?"

Pecker raised an eyebrow, crossing his wings over his chest as he shifted his weight slightly. "No.. no kids came in here, I would know if they did. Aarrrwwk! The blasted little brats like to poke at me or pull my tail."

"I could have sworn a kid grabbed my hand…" she muttered, putting one hand on her hip and the other to her forehead. She didn't see Onin smirk at her utterance.

"Onin says 'Seek the one eyed man from the sea of sand in the lair of the black hearted hog, for only he shall lead you to the scion of Mar.' aarrrwwk! Do you have to use so many words?" Pecker squawked, flapping his wings in annoyance. "Onin also says to not worry about your friend, for he is where he is needed and in good hands. Now, time for you to go, you've had your five minutes of mysticism." Pecker waved his wings as if shooing Ashelin out of the tent.

Praxis' daughter didn't have much say in the matter. Her eco-pistol was back in its holster, her rain cloak pulled closed tightly and the hood up and she was half-way back to the palace before she even realized it. All the time, Onin's words running though her mind. Just who was the one eyed man from the sea of sand and what connection did he have to do with Damas or the Hose of Mar?

A few weeks later Ashelin was at the port waiting on the Air Train to arrive. She had been assigned to pick up Count Veger and transport him back to the palace and the Grand Council. As she waited, she listened with one ear to the guards stationed in the area.

"Man am I happy not have been assigned THAT duty," one commented

"Oh? Why's that? All you have to do is go out then come back. A cake walk," quipped the second.

"Yeah, a cake walk. Stuck in a stuffy transport in full armor for hours at a time with an even stuffier 'Person of Importance' just to kick some poor sucker out into the wasteland cause they didn't agree with the council or the Baron. Just rather shoot them or toss them to the Metal Heads. Might be more merciful."

The second snorted. "Eh.. yeah I kinda see what you mean."

"Have you ever taken a look out the back view port? The wasteland is nothing but sand and rock as far as the eye can see. A veritable sea of bland, tan repetitive nothingness," the first said. "Don't know how those crazy wastelanders survive there. For Mar's Sake we got fucking attacked by a bunch of those psychotic fuckers the last time I had that duty. It was like they were waiting on us or something."

"Good thing then that there's an ocean between us then."

"Yeah, really… Here comes the Train. Better get a moving before that the councilman starts bitching."

Ashelin watched the pair walk away before she stepped out of the port pillar's shadow. The guard's words as well as Onin's coming together in her mind. The guard had called the wasteland a 'sea', but how much of that was truth was speculation. But if she put the two together then she was suppose to be looking for a one eyed wastelander. Only Mar knew if there was any working in the city at the moment though. Spotting Count Veger stepping off the Air Train she sighed and approached the councilman. "Count Veger? Baron Praxis ordered me to transport you back to the Palace sir."

The count turned to look down his nose at the person speaking to him. He was mildly surprised to see it was his half-niece. Putting that oh-so-superior smirk on his face, he motioned for her to continue. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded. Oh how he loved lording his position above everyone else. It was his Precursor given right after all to be where he was today.

By will alone was Ashelin able to keep her expression neutral. "This way sir," she said gesturing to the parked Hellcat cruiser a little ways away. Once Veger was settled she started up the cruiser then shifted from low hover-zone to the higher zone and angled the cruiser in the direction of the Palace. She managed to tune out most of what Veger was going on about though a few of his words did catch her attention.

"One day I will have that eye-sore of a sign torn down and that fat owner banished from the city!"

Ashelin turned to look in the direction Veger was waving his hand. She had to do a double take before she shook her head letting out an ironic laugh. The Fates and, or Destiny had a rather weird sense of humor, that is if one was to believe in either. Above the bar called the 'Hip Hog Haven Saloon' was the ugliest statue she'd ever seen. Of a hip hog. Making a mental note to come back after dropping the councilman she continued onto the palace.

It was another few weeks before she could get the time off without any other obligations to visit the Hip Hog Haven Saloon. Watching for a few she noted the number of off duty guard that went there as well as a few less savory citizens. Just as she was about to head towards the doors, they opened and out stepped Erol, the KG commander along with a couple of obvious floozies hanging off his arms. That complicated her plans slightly if Erol frequented the saloon. Squaring her shoulders she walked into the saloon. Ignoring the looks she received she sauntered up to the bar, ignoring the fight going on in the ring set up in the middle of the place.

The bartender, a young blonde girl who looked to be barely of legal age, paused when she spotted the red-headed daughter of Praxis saunter up to the bar. "What can I get ya?" she asked in a sweet, bubbly voice. She was already reaching for a bottle of the light and fruity type alcohol.

"Winter Lager," Ashelin said, a smirk curling the corner of her lips as the bartender blinked a few times in surprise before grabbing a bottle of the dark winter lager. When the freshly opened bottle was placed before Ashelin, she wrapped her fingers around the neck, lifted it to her lips and took a sip. It was a little weak but not completely swill like she expected from a place like this. Turning she leaned back against the bar and watched the fight going on in the ring. It looked like it was one man against several younger ones. So far it appeared that the older male was winning if his booming laughter was any indication.

"Come on chilli peppers, if you want to stay you gotta do better than that."

Ashelin continued to watch, sipping her lager, as the older male kept knocking down the younger ones and laughing about it. At one point the bartender carried out an overflowing beer stein out to the older male. If she were to hazard a guess, then the older male was the bouncer and the younger ones were under age. The fight, if one could call it that, didn't last much longer though. A whirring sound followed by the grotesque sight of an obscenely obese male riding a hover chair floated down from the upper floor of the saloon.

"Sig!" bellowed the floating fat man.

"Yeah?" Sig asked turning around, taking a long deep drink from the over-flowing stein as only one who truly appreciates a good beer would do.

"Get rid of those under-aged hooligans now!" Krew wheezed, fanning himself with an old-fashioned hand fan. "It's bad enough I have members of the city guard… as well as the commander of the KG here on a semi-regular basis, eh.. I do NOT wish to be fined for having minors in my establishment!" Floating closer he jabbed be-ringed sausage sized fingers at the youths and then pointed to the door. "Any fines I receive will come out of your pay, you understand? Eh?" Krew growled before whizzing away on his floating chair, presumably to head back to his office.

As Krew spoke, Sig had been steadily drinking his beer. It saved him from having to smell his employer's rather foul breath. He knew he'd better get to work or else his boss would send him on some rather unpleasant assignments. Finishing off the beer, he wiped his mouth on the back of one arm then stepped out of the ring. For a man his size he moved smoothly, without the lumbering one was accustomed to seeing in citizens of Haven City. Setting the stein on the bar, he turned back to deal with the youths. One was tossed over his shoulder, a second secured under an arm while the third and fourth were dragged out by the back of their tunics. When he came back in, sans the youths, he belled up to the bar for another stein of beer. Glancing to his left at the red-head, he grinned. "Hello Cherry, enjoying the show?" he asked.

"Enjoying the view is more like it," Ashelin smirked then finished off her lager. She left the empty bottle as well as payment on the bar and sauntered out. She would come back a few more times to see if anyone else other then Krew's heavy matched the description.

Winter gave way to spring then into summer before Ashelin was sure she had the right person then manage to convince him that she was honestly looking for Damas just to know he was alive and well and for Sig to get the go ahead from Damas to bring Ashelin to the oasis for a meeting. She used her personal Hellcat cruiser in order to fly to the co-ordinates Sig gave her. The trip was long but compared to an Air Train, only a few hours. Damas was waiting for them, a moderate sized tent like those the Precursor Monks used when staying in the desert was already set up and waiting. Sig took up watch as Damas and Ashelin entered the tent to talk privately. She accepted that he was either unwilling or unable to say how he survived; only that he had. In return, he understood that there were some things she was unable or unwilling to speak of. When they finally parted company, she left with a slightly lighter heart. He had also given her his deceased wife's beacon. When she asked why, he told her to use it wisely so that she could save others from the cruel fate of the desert. In the years following, a handful of Haven City exiles were saved when she gave them the beacon and told them someone would find them. The beacon always made its way back into her possession afterwards.

Back during the months between winter and summer though, the Ashelin and Sig managed to trick most everyone into believing they were just using each other for the occasional tumble between the sheets. Of all those tricked Erol was the hardest. What did it though was the one time they purposely was 'sloppy' in concealing their meeting. It was also the one, and only time she and Sig had sex.

The pair had planned it so that when Erol 'accidently' walked in on them in the back store room of the Hip Hog, they were in a position that clearly screamed 'we're screwing, go the fuck away!' Ashelin had removed her jacket as well as her top leaving her in only her pants and bra. She had also unfastened her belt and slid her pants down even further. Sig had propped his peacemaker against the stack of crates close at hand along with the red pouch and canteen. The kilt-styled waist rap and sash was piled on the floor with her jacket and top. To make things more realistic the two had gotten into some rather heavy petting. What Erol saw when he opened the door was Ashelin perched on a stake of crates, one arm about Sig's shoulder and the other hidden from view while Sig's hand was down the front of Ashelin's pants as he gave her breasts all the attention he could. What the pair didn't know was just how long Erol was standing there watching before they noticed him. When Erol finally left (under the combined threat of Sig's peacemaker and Ashelin's eco-pistol) he was satisfied in the belief that they were only using each other for their own personal pleasure.

As Sig turned back around after locking the door so that he could grab his gear and re-dress, he found himself with a face full of eco-pistol and a flushed, yet pissed red-head. "Cherry?"

"You had damned well finish what you started mister or so help Mar, you'll be so full of holes that everyone will hear you whistling before they see you!"

"Well cherry, if you insist…."

They got down to the business of finishing what they started. It wasn't long before both were buck-assed naked going at it like a pair of sex-starved teenagers.

"You know what they say," he said at one point.

"What?" she asked back a bit on the breathless side as he continued to pound into her.

"Why ride a zoomer when you can ride a Wastelander." Her laughter was cut short as he changed angles causing her to let out a groan of pleasure.

When the pair finally parted company that evening, she was walking with a limp, he was not quite staggering with exhaustion and both were more than thoroughly satisfied.

-o-

_**592HC…**_

The governess of Haven City, Ashelin Praxis, was disgusted with herself that she could do so little to help out Jak. "I'm sorry. The Council is too powerful. There was nothing I…" she said as she released the heavy duty manacles binding Jak's wrists together. Her eyes shifting to glance at Veger without moving her head then cut back to Jak before she looked down and to the side.

Once he was released, he flexed his hands then rubbed his wrists. "I know," Jak replied, cutting off anything else Ashelin would have said.

Ashelin was able to palm a small oval object without Veger or anyone else noticing. She then grabbed Jak's right wrist and slapped it into his palm, activating it at the same time. "You just stay alive, you hear me? That's an order! Someone will find you, I promise." Looking him in the face she used everything she could to convey her seriousness. She then folded his fingers over it, hiding the soft glow and muffling the gentle bleeping it made before turning and walking back to the transport.

Jak looked slightly confused for a moment before he was forced to raise his arm to shield his face from the dust and sand kicked up by the departing transport. When he lowered his arm he looked at the beacon trying to figure out what Ashelin meant by her departing words. The sound of several someone's coughing took his attention away from the beacon thought. "Daxter!"

_**Sometime later….**_

A trio of Wastelanders approached the unconscious young man. One was heavy set, was partially bald with yellowish hair and a matching handlebar mustache. He seemed to carry a generally pissed off disposition. The second one, to the right of the first, was just as tall yet slimmer. That one, while partially bald like the first, had white hair done up in dreadlocks, carried a cool, calculating yet regal bearing. The third of the group stood behind the two. That one had short cropped dark hair and a patch over his right eye. That one could really care less, one way or the other since he was just following orders.

"Looks like we found some live ones…heh, barely," said the second one as he stood over the unconscious young man before using the end of his staff like weapon to thump him on the hip. When he did, Jak shifted and rolled slightly, his right arm flopping to the side and his hand opening, exposing the active beacon. The white haired Wastelander knelt down to snatch the beacon up and then looked at it a moment. "Here's the beacon we were picking up." He recognized the beacon the moment he picked it up. "Who gave you this?" he demanded as he grabbed the unresponsive male by the front of his heavy blue tunic before letting go and standing up. "We'll take them with us! Let's move! I smell a storm coming," he said as he looked off into the distance.

_**Even more time later….**_

Jak ignored Daxter's comments for the moment, as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest watching Ashelin. He thought about it before speaking, his usual expression shifting very little as he did. "That beacon you gave me… thanks."

Ashelin lifted one hand, waving it to indicate everything around them. "I knew Damas would find you." She turned away, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't miss much in this desert," she said, dropping her hand to her side once more, not looking at Jak.

Jak uncrossed his arms, eyebrows drawn downwards as he put his hands on his hips. His curiosity turning to accusation when he asked, "How do you know him?"

She shrugged, shaking her head as she sighed. "It doesn't matter now." Firming her resolve she turned back to face him. "Jak, I need you to come back to the city. We're losing the fight. Veger is drunk on power and he's taken command." She once more gestured with her hand to underscore the importance of her words. "He doesn't understand what he's up against. I need you…"

The sounds of revving engines were the only warning the pair got before marauders descended upon them.

"Look out!" Jak yelled as he shoved Ashelin to the side and pulled his weapon into ready position.

-o-

(A/N pt 2: yeah, it took a while to write this. I should be doing math, micro-economics, American History and speech homework, but.. blah. Only 3 weeks left before the end of the semester. Most story ideas have been written down then placed in a folder in more or less chronological order. Usually those ideas are questions about how, when, what and why something happened aka the plot holes of the game. Again, cut scenes are used only to illustrate my point and when needed.

I hope the next chapter is completed in a shorter amount of time then this one was.)


	5. Torn & Ashelin Where were you?

Turning of the Wheel 05

A Jak and Daxter fanfic

By PhantomChajo

(A/N pt 1: See? I told you I was lazy and slow on updating stories. Also blame Burenda and her story "A Matter of Time" It's a wonderful AU that was very distracting! Holidays in general and a feline with a broken leg thanks to being hit by some arsewipe driving over the speed limit in a residential area. Grrr!

So what were Ashelin and Torn doing in the throne room at the end of Jak 2? And did you notice that at the party neither Ashelin nor Torn are seen?

Ashelin x Torn kink, mild bondage & domination, plus sex.

I own nothing but those characters you don't recognize. Everyone else belongs to Naughty Dog, Inc.)

-o-

"Taking a break"

_591HC…_

In the near empty throne room of the palace, two individuals slowly walked along the central strip of carpeting. The man had his hands clasp behind his back while the woman had her arms crossed over her chest. The way they walked together spoke of a long time friendship and understanding of each other.

"Listen, Ashelin… I… I'm sorry about your father's death but…"

"It's OK. My real father died a long time ago. The man that he became was no longer my father; he became my commander then the ruler of the city. I think the man that was my father started to die just after my mother's death. The failed attack on the metal head nest was the final nail in the coffin."

Torn couldn't say much to that. He knew how death could affect people. He'd seen it enough when growing up in the slums of the city. "Still…" he unclasped his hands and made a small gesture with his right while his left settled on the butt of his eco-pistol automatically.

She turned her head and gave a small smile. "It's the thought that counts. Thank you Torn." Ashelin turned her head to glance back at the now closed doors to the throne room. "At least you're sincere. I swear I could feel Count Veger's nose trying to burry itself in my ass while he went on about how sorry he was to hear of my… of Baron Praxis's death."

They had reached the top of the stairs leading to the throne itself by this time. Torn sat down on the top step while Ashelin stood two steps below. It made them on eye level with each other as well as giving both a clear view of the room.

"That is Not a mental image I wanted, thank you very much," Torn said with a small laugh as he shook his head. He then leaned forward, his right hand settling on his thigh next to his eco-pistol while his left forearm rested on his knee.

"I'd rather have something else belonging to someone else buried in a different place my own self," she said in a low seductive purr as she smirked, arching an eyebrow slightly. She watched Torn look down, a real smile crossing his face as he thought about her proposition. She could see how pale he'd become over the last year as well as how tired he looked. The dark patches under his eyes were more evident in the brighter light of the throne room then the single light over the table in the underground headquarters. She wanted to get him to relax and rest up so he'd be better prepared to take on his new duties. "You know," she said changing the subject, "Daxter has invited us to a party at his new place," he'd been pushing himself far too much without anyone around who could get him to take a break being around to stop it.

Torn raised a hairless eyebrow at the comment, "Oh no. I spent enough time with that talking rat around me when giving Jak his assignments. I don't want to spend any more time with him around. New place or not." What he really wanted was to find himself a nice dark room with a semi-comfortable bed so he could just collapse and not wake up for a week or two. In truth though he knew he'd never sleep more than a few hours at most before waking up again, just as exhausted and tired as when he went to sleep. But his pride wouldn't let him tell her that.

What Ashelin wanted though was a few days alone with Torn to do with him as she pleased. And the best way to get that was to get him to go to the party, have a few drinks then take him back to her place. That way she could put on him a 'home arrest' ankle bracelet without him knowing it till he woke up later. Yes he'd be pissed as hell about being restricted to her quarters, but if it worked and he did get some much needed R&R then she'd deal with him being pissed off at her.

But before either could act upon it, her communicator started demanding her attention. With a sigh that was a cross between annoyed and resigned, she turned away and flipped it open. "Yes?"

"Your transport is ready, m'lady."

"Thank you, Captain Brutter," she said then turned back around to face Torn. "Come on… we'll be late for the party at Daxter's new place."

Closing his eyes against the bright light of the throne room Torn raised his head. He opened his eyes long enough to look at Ashelin then close them again as he shook his head. "I've got so much work to do. Besides, it's not my thing."

She took advantage of his closed eyes to silently move behind him. Leaning over so she was inches from his ear, she used her best commanding voice. "Ten Hut!"

Torn shot up, standing at attention even before he could think about it as ingrained training from his time as a Guard kicked in.

Ashelin would never openly admit it, but she loved how she could command Torn as no one else could. "As the new governor of this city, I order the Commander of the New Krimzon Guard to escort me to an official function." As she spoke she moved from behind his left shoulder to his right side. "Is that understood?" it was more of a rhetorical question then anything.

Torn shot up even straighter, almost but not quite shouting his reply, "Yes sir! I mean, Yes Ma'am! I mean…"

Softening her voice slightly, Ashelin continued, "You can start rebuilding the city tomorrow. Tonight we celebrate with our new friends." Moving back around to his left side once more, she draped one arm over his right shoulder and placed her left hand on the left side of his chest, over his heart. "Besides tough guy, I'm dying to see you dance."

Giving her an amused look, he smiled. "Not likely." He watched as she lifted her head a tad then took advantage of how close they were by leaning in and giving her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Who said anything about dancing in public?" she replied with her own smile, reaching up with her right hand to play with the tip of his ear. She started to laugh softly as his right eye started to close, his left eyebrow rose up and his ear started twitching.

When he heard her laugh he jerked his head slightly and gave her a look. "Damn it Ash," he grumbled as he reached up to rub his ear trying to get it to stop twitching. "You know what that does to me."

"Yes, I do," she smirked, "That's why I do it," slowly taking one step at a time down the throne's stairway, out of his immediate range.

Torn, just as slowly, stalked down the stairs after Ashelin. He softly growled, eyes narrowing as he watched her, judging the distance between them and to the bottom of the stairs. It was a game that they had played many times before so both knew the rules. As soon as she was four steps from the bottom she crouched then sprang up, back flipping to land gracefully on her feet only to pivot and dash off. He on the other hand launched himself off the steps, tucking his shoulder so that he rolled back onto his feet and was off after her in a flash.

They played chase for several minutes, weaving between the columns, ducking under the stairs, leaping over the glass viewing panels in the floor (even though they were reinforced to withstand a missile impact neither wanted to test it out) and in general acting like a pair of hyper kids. If anyone had walked in they would have died of shock from hearing Torn laugh. Not the sarcastic or mirthless chuckle he was known for around the Underground, but a full blown, out right happy laugh of someone who was having fun. Only Ashelin had ever been privileged to hear that laugh from him and then it was only on rare occasions. In turn it made her heart a little lighter causing her to giggle madly when they both went down in a jumbled heap, him on top.

"Got'ya," he said with a growl before he started kissing along her jaw line till he reached her ear. He then nipped her earlobe before licking along the edge till he reached the tip. From there he worked his way back down till his face was buried against the crook of her neck. "I… I want you Ashelin… I need you Ash…" he muttered softly against her skin as he placed gentle, soft kisses along her throat.

She finally got her giggles under control and was humming softly in pleasure as he nipped and licked her ear. Her fingers were idly tracing patterns down his left arm and over his waist till he spoke about wanting and needing. She stilled for several heartbeats before taking advantage of his inattention to flip them over so she was now on top. She grabbed his wrists and positioned his arms above his head, using one hand to hold them in place. With the other hand she traced the ink trails that marked his face, neck and ears. "You need me, hmmmm? Why do you need me?" she asked as she slide down just a little so that she was straddling his hips and could feel his groin against hers.

Since both were fairly close in height, they were about even there. It was in the weight category that Torn had the advantage though he didn't use it to reverse their positions once more. He was content to let her straddle him because it gave a much better view in his mind, not to mention the feel of her heat against him was pleasurable. "Yes," he said softly before capturing a wandering finger between his lips. He slowly sucked on the digit, letting his tongue play across the supple leather of the glove. He was rewarded by hearing her soft gasp of surprised delight. "I need you…." he paused a moment to nibble on her finger before continuing, "Mistress Lin." He looked up at her; his eyes which were usually so devoid of emotions were full to the brim.

Need, want and desire were the easiest of all for Ashelin discern. There were also tints of shame and embarrassment mixed in as well. She could only guess where the last two came from considering what she knew about his past and how he was raised. She knew how rare it was for him to ask (in his own fashion) for this, if she denied his request then it might be months before he asked again. Or else he may just take his need somewhere else to be fulfilled. She bit down in the inside of her lip as she made her decision. Pulling her finger from his mouth she placed it against his lips in the universal sigh for silence. She then pulled out her communicator and flipped it open. A few flicks of her thumb and she had the number she wanted.

"Hmmm Yes?"

"Captain Brutter, something has come up that Commander Torn and I need to deal with. Go ahead to Daxter's place and pass along my apology for not attending."

"Yes m'lady. Right away!"

Ashelin flipped her communicator closed, disconnecting the call then pocketing it once more. "My quarters. I want you stripped, showered and awaiting my inspection. That includes removing the dreads from your hair. Everything is in the case under my bed. Have it open and spread out as well."

Torn nodded his head then swallowed before answering. "Yes Mistress." He had yet to move from his current position.

She rolled off of him then stood up. "You may go now."

He got to his feet, arms behind his back and his head bowed in submission. "Yes Mistress." He bowed once then left the throne room.

Ashelin stood there in thought for several minutes after the door had opened and closed again. She glanced at the door once before turning and walking back up the stairs to the throne. Settling herself she mused on how far her and Torn had come in their strange relationship. While she was growing up, she had seen Torn as he worked his way up in the ranks. Something about him just perked her interest and when she started getting curious about sex; well he most often stared in her fantasies. So when she went to him in that awkward teenager kind of way to ask him to be her first sexual experience, he turned her down. Gently mind you but still he refused, saying something about saving herself for someone better. Very few people said no to her as she was growing up, mostly in fear of her father and partly in hopes of getting favors from her father. So when this nobody from the slums said no to her, it was both shocking and refreshing at the same time.

She shifted sideways, tossing a leg over one arm of the throne, then propped her elbow on other arm so she could rest her cheek against her palm. Absently she ran her free hand down her side and started playing with the buckle of her belt. Her mind wandered down memory lane, back to the time she originally caught him dealing with his needs. It was not long after the Queen's death and the disastrous event that came to be known as Dead Town. She followed him to, surprisingly, one of the better parts of the city. She watched as he entered a non-descript shop fronts then waited a few minutes. When he didn't leave, she took the yakkow by the horns and entered the store herself. Boy did she ever get a surprise when she did. Apparently she was considered a person of interest and therefore known to the people in the shop even though she'd never been there before.

Ashelin huffed out a breath of laughter in remembrance of that event. The shop was set up more like an office. The receptionist was a young woman dressed in tasteful clothes. She raised an eyebrow then pressed a button on the desk next to her keyboard. Two large males dressed in studded leather harnesses and half-masks stepped out from behind dark wooden privacy panels that stood to either side of the door as it locked. Her eyes grew large as she looked at one male then the other and realized they were not wearing any type of shorts, pants or underwear & both were fully erect. Her cheeks heated up and turned almost the same color as her hair as she snapped her eyes up and away. Once the roaring died down in her ears the sound of laughter coming from the back area of the store-office caused her cheeks to surpass the color of her hair.

"Oh how delightful, a blushing virgin," said the person once they stopped laughing.

Her embarrassment turned to anger then confusion when she saw the person. Standing taller than her by several inches, possibly even taller than Torn, they looked feminine in the face, but sounded like a male and had both tits and a cock. What in the name of the Precursors was this person?

"Oh honey, never seen a trans-gendered bondage queen before? Don't worry, I get that look all the time from the new cliental when they first meet me." He/she waved to the two males then nodded to the receptionist. "Alright boys, back to your place. I'll take her from here Darleen. Well come on honey let's go to my office and talk."

Madam (for she never got a real name) and her talked for several hours in that office. Ashelin got a crash course on how to be a Dominatrix and learned that she enjoyed the feeling of power. Not just liked but damned hear got off on the feeling. It was a shocking eye opener for the nearly 17 year old daughter of Baron Praxis, but oddly liberating at the same time. Madam noticed that Ashelin's eyes kept going to the one display screen that showed Torn's session. A plan was formed, a deal was made and the next time Torn came in for a session, Ashelin was there to be his Mistress. In return, Torn gave in and had sex with her. Before he popped her cherry he flat out told her that it wasn't going to be anything like romance novels or stories made it. It would be painful at first, if she was lucky there would be a minimal amount of blood and it would be unlikely for her to have an orgasm the first time either. He was enough of a nice guy to be sure he got her off in other ways beforehand though.

Ashelin shifted once more on the throne, dropping her leg down off the arm as a delicate shudder ran through her. "Damn him," she muttered as she wiggled some. Just thinking about all that happened in the past was enough to get her soaked and on the edge. Standing up she stalked down the stairs, leaving the throne room and headed to her quarters. She was horny as hell now and intended to ride him for all he had before she let him get away from her again.

_A little earlier…._

When the doors to the throne room closed behind him, he did not run. He calmly walked to the elevator and went to the residential floor where he knew Ashelin's quarters were located. Once inside, he headed for the bedroom first and fished the case out from under the bed. The case was old and battered, more of a child's suitcase than anything else. If anyone ever broke in the case would most likely be over looked in favor of other items. Popping it open, he pulled the items out one by one he inspected each to be sure it was in good condition before laying it on the foot of the bed. The perishable items he made sure weren't out of date then set them aside. Now that the case was empty he closed it and put it back under the bed. Taking the bottles of oil he headed to the kitchen to get a bowl of water. That bowl of water went into the microwave to be heated up and as he waited he started removing the bindings from his hair. He had removed about a third of them when the appliance beeped. Opening it up, he took the bowl of bubbling hot water out and carefully slid the bottles of oil into the water. Gathering up the discarded hair bindings, he took everything back to the bedroom. The bowl of water went on the nightstand and he headed to the bathroom.

With efficiency he stripped off everything and shoved it into the corner to be taken care of later. He doubted he would be putting anything on for the next day or so if Ashelin had her way. Pulling the shower open he twisted the knobs and waited for the water to come out of the faucet. A few moments of fiddling with the settings, he closed the door once more and finished removing his hair bindings. Already steam was wafting out over the top of the shower doors. After making a face at himself in the mirror he stepped into the shower. Hissing for a moment he quickly adjusted the water once more. From boiling hot to merely scalding hot, he eased under the pounding spray and groaned in pleasure.

Bathing for those living at the underground headquarters meant warm water, if one was lucky enough to be the first in line. For those that followed it meant tepid water at best, ice cold at worse, quick 5-10 minute showers. Being in a palace residential quarters meant unlimited hot water, something he took advantage of as he let the heat work its magic. Once his skin turned from fish-belly pale to bright pink, he turned the water down further and went to work scrubbing himself clean. From his toes to the tips of his ears, he lathered, scrubbed then rinsed only to do it again. After the third time of shampooing and rinsing his hair, he considered it clean. A little conditioner was worked in and left there as he turned the water up once more. Five minutes later, the conditioner had been rinsed from his hair, the water shut off and he was out of the shower drying off with a towel. Some self inspection, a quick finger-comb through his hair and little talcum powder, and he was ready to go.

Torn debated a few moments on whether or not to put some tea to steeping for his mistress, if she took her time it could be cold but if she showed up early then it would not be ready. Instead he removed the bottles of now warm oil and walked into the kitchen, still as nude as could be, to retrieve a pitcher of icy cold water and a glass. Returning to the bedroom with both, he arranged them on the nightstand next to the bottles then settled himself to wait.

When Ashelin arrived at her quarters, she instinctively knew someone else was there. Even if it was just Torn, she had learned how to identify if someone had been there and left, or was still there. Not something the ordinary citizen would notice, but for someone trained it was noticeable. The trace of warm dampness in the air, the subtle scent of soap and shampoo, a few scattered dark patches where water droplets had fallen indicated he had showered not too long ago. A fast glance into the kitchen and she noted the empty place where a pitcher normally sat. It meant he had decided on water instead of tea because he wasn't sure how long it would be before she arrived. Her bedroom door was also closed. Even though it was an automatic sliding door like every other door in the palace, she had disabled the sensor so the door had to be manually triggered to open.

She remembered when Erol had tried a few things after he became commander of the KG. He learned really fast not to fuck with her in her own quarters. Baron Praxis did not bother to punish his daughter for what she had done to Erol, in fact he thought it was wickedly amusing. When they were still alive, Praxis had the tendency to remind the KG Commander about it from time to time.

Taking a deep breath then letting it out, she triggered the door open and walked in as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She walked past Torn, kneeling at the foot of the bed as if he was just another piece of furniture in the room. Taking her eco-pistol from its holster she gave it a once over then put the safety on and put it away in the nightstand drawer. Her armor and gear followed, each piece checked over then put away in its spot. The communicator was switched to emergency contact only then placed on charge. By the time she had finished, she was wearing little more than her denim and leather pants, boots and red sports top. A glance at the still motionless male at the foot of her bed was all it took to know he was both tense and relaxed at the same time. It was time to get the ball rolling.

"Remove my boots," she ordered as she sat down on the bed before stretching out on her side to look at the items laid out. Still ignoring Torn, she ran her fingers across the supple leather wrist bindings, the stiff collar, soft blinders and flexible gag. She wiggled her toes then rolled over to sit up. Though she didn't have to tell him anything, they had agreed on the simple rule of explanation. She would tell him why something was done, not just do it and leave him in the dark trying to figure out what he did or did not do. In the roles of Dominant and submissive, the sub held the true power because he or she could put a stop to anything with a simple safe word.

Standing up she walked away a moment then turned to study the still kneeling male. "Tonight you will be punished for what you have caused," carefully she judged the affect her words had. Tensing muscles, ears going back, head bowing a little more. "You caused a bit of a mess," she said moving forward till she was directly in front of him. Reaching down she ran her fingers though his loose hair before tightening her grip forcing his head up and his face into her crotch, "and you will clean it up as I punish you."

The musky smell of her arousal was quite evident with his nose practically buried in her still clothed sex. The smell went straight to his cock bypassing his brain. Taking a deep breath he tilted his head back slowly, testing how much play was in her grip, till his mouth was pressed against her. Opening his mouth he slowly drug his tongue over the heavy denim material. He mentally swore he could taste her though the material as his cock hardened in primal anticipation.

Tightening her grip she pulled his head away. "Eager to please or trying to distract me from your punishment? You may answer."

Torn swallowed, licking his lips. "I am doing as my mistress instructed. I am cleaning up the mess that I have caused." He avoided looking at her face, as she had not given him permission to do so.

"That glib tongue of yours will cause you further punishment before it is put to use," she let out a throaty chuckle then let go. "Undress me, and then stand and present yourself."

He did as he was ordered, starting from the bottom and working his way up. Fingers made quick work of buckles, buttons and clasps on the denim and leather pants before he slid them off her toned legs. He moved up then to remove her top, careful not to touch her breasts since he was not given permission to do so. Last he dropped back down to his knees and slowly removed the scrap of fabric masquerading as underwear. As he did, he brought his face closer to her sex, once more inhaling deeply before boldly sticking his tongue between her folds. It earned him a rough yank on his ear followed by a light clout to the side of his head. He looked up catching her scowl before quickly dropping his eyes once more.

Ashelin leaned down grabbing a hand full of hair then pulling Torn's head up so that he had to look at her. "For that, I've changed my mind on how I'm going to punish you." Still hanging onto his hair she moved around to the end of the bed forcing him to follow. "I was going to use this on you tonight," she said picking up toys.

It was a simple butt plug, designed in a way that once inserted it couldn't be forced out. It was large enough though that he would be well filled with it in. He couldn't quite suppress the tightening of muscles in his ass at the thought of that in him.

"But because of what you just did, I'm going to use these instead," she said dropping the plug and picking up a string of anal beads. Again they looked to be a simple sex toy but the last bead had a second cord emerging from it. "Hold out your hand," doing as she ordered, she dropped them in his out stretched hand then picked up a small cylinder and pressed a button. The first bead started vibrating then the second, third and forth joined in as she cycled though the settings.

He licked his lips then swallowed. That particular toy had not been in the collection last time around. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed his luck but he could still taste her on the tip of his tongue and oh was it worth it. He knew that he had issues when he got off on her dominating him sexually and while he preferred having sex with women, a guy was just as good. But it couldn't be just any guy, certain criteria had to be meet.

She didn't let him dwell on things too much. "Stand and present yourself," she ordered tugging his hair once then letting go to grab the wrist bindings. He held out both arms for her and calmly allowed her to put the supple bindings on him. Obediently he turned arms behind his back and waited as she connected them together. She knew how much pressure to put on his shoulders when binding his arms behind his back so that he wouldn't have any problems. Too tight and it would cause strain, too loose and it would defeat the purpose. The collar, which prevented him from lowering his head too much, was next followed by a trinity styled cock-ring.

With his arms back and his head forced upwards, he couldn't see what she was doing but he sure as hell could feel it. Work roughened hands caressed the skin of his abs, hips and thighs before sliding down his groin and ghosting over his hard cock. His breath hitched as his ball sack was pinched then soothingly stroked, his cock twitching in response. Almost every single partner he'd ever had was fascinated with the fact he had no body hair whatsoever. Not a single hair anywhere except on the top of his head. A strange twist in his genetic heritage, one he learned to deal with. A grunt made it past tightly closed lips as the first strap of the cock-ring was fastened around the base of his erection forcing his scrotum away from his body slightly. The second went around the base of his shaft and was connected to the top of the first ring. The third was locked around the base of his ball sack and connected at the top and each side to the first and second. It wasn't painful but it was a snug, restricting sensation. Before he could do much, he was bent forward at the waist so his upper body lay across the bed. His feet were nudged farther apart so they remained flat on the floor yet his knees were not bent and his ass was sticking up in the air. He didn't try to repress the shudder that went through him at the thought of what was going to happen next.

Warm oil was dribbled between his spread ass cheeks to be teasingly spread around his puckered hole. He twisted his head back and forth before biting down on a mouthful of bedspread as a finger was slowly pushed. It'd been months since he last has anything inserted into his ass (contrary to popular belief amongst various members of the underground, Jak and Daxter included). More oil and a second invading finger had him fighting to keep from bucking his hips. When the fingers were removed a conflicting sense of relief and desire for more quivered though his body. The first bead was pushed in past the tight ring of sphincter muscles with the aid of a liberal amount of oil, then the second and third soon followed. By the time seven of the ten beads were inserted he was panting hard and unable to keep still. When the vibrator in the beads was turned on he was begging shamelessly in minutes to be allowed to cum and squirming from the damningly pleasurable sensation.

Ashelin smirked as her own pleasure in being able to dominate radiated through her body and mind. Pressing herself up against his back, she wrapped her oil covered hand around his swollen flesh and slowly stroked. When he tried to thrust harder into her hand, she loosened her grip to she was barely touching him, fingers ghosting over hard flesh. When he stilled she rewarded him by tightening her hold once more as she firmly but slowly stroked him. All the time she licked, nibbled and sucked on the back of his neck, shoulders or ears. "Do you think you've been punished enough yet?" she asked after a good thirty minutes had passed.

He moaned, unable to put forth any words for several minutes. If he said yes, the torture would continue, if he said no then things could get worse. "Mistress..Lin!.. please.." he panted and moaned, "use me.. punish me.. please.. mistress.."

She arched an eyebrow at his words. He must have been really hard up to be this vocal and demanding (in a way that only a submissive could be). She could feel how tense his whole body was under hers and it was wickedly delightful. "On your knees," she commanded while making sure he didn't injure himself. Moving away from him she straightened up as she turned the vibrator down then off.

His whole body sagged with relief with the cessation of the toy's vibrations. The way he was positioned he could see his achingly hard cock. Pre-cum slowly beaded up then dribbled down his shaft in an oddly fascinating fashion. It was enough of a distraction he didn't realize when his mistress sat down on the edge of the bed till his face was being caressed and lifted up.

Ashelin didn't like the vacant expression on his face. It was like he wasn't fully there, in a daze almost. She wanted to get his attention refocused and his mind back in the present. The fleeting thought that perhaps she should have told him either no or to wait till he was rested crossed her mind before it was shoved to the back. She wanted this as much as he did though and she'd be damned if she let it slip through her fingers. She scraped her nails lightly over his scalp as she spoke. "It is time to clean up the mess you caused. If you are not doing a proper job you will know it, do I make myself clear?" she asked reaching over and flicking the remote for the vibrator to high for a few seconds then turning it off.

He turned his head and nuzzled into her hand in acknowledgement of her orders. Working his way between her legs he rubbed his check against soft flesh of her inner thighs, placing ghostly kisses along the way till he reached his goal. Neatly trimmed red, a shade or two darker then what was on her head, framed her moist slit. Her 'flavor' was as unique as her scent when he buried his tongue between her folds. If his hands had been free he would simply have pulled apart her arousal swollen flesh and delved in, instead he would lick teasingly until she parted her thighs further on her own. And lick he did, from bottom to top in long strokes, brushing across her clit each time. Mentally he smirked when she adjusted herself on the bed, legs spread apart which in turn spread her sex further for him. He really went to work 'cleaning' up the 'mess' then.

Ashelin leaned back on her elbows and watched for a few moments before settling back and getting comfortable. With one arm tucked behind her head, she ran her free hand slowly over her breasts and stomach as she enjoyed his oral performance. She flexed her toes and feet or stretched a leg out before resettling again, the remote in the hand that was tucked behind her head. When he found a rather sensitive spot that, while not painful or anything like that, sure as hell didn't bring her pleasure she thumbed the controls to max. She hummed softly to herself when he got the message and shifted his tongue to a more pleasurable location. In reward she turned the device off again. The cycle continued on until she finally came due to external sensations.

Even as she brought her knees together to stop him, Torn continued to lap as her cunt until she finally shoved him away with a breathless, laughing command to stop. Without his hands and arms being free, he overbalanced and ended up on his back. It wasn't a pleasant position with his arms and legs still tucked under him. He'd lost sensation in his feet some time back when the reduced blood circulation had caused the 'sleeping limb' effect. He lay there though, because she had not told him he could move. Even though to a person who wasn't into bondage, domination and submission and kinks it was rather fucked up relationship, he didn't think so.

Just because she had gotten off on him going down on her, didn't mean she'd had an orgasm yet. She knew that females were able to have multiple orgasms from various means of stimulation both internal and external. As for men, unless the tantric method is used, most only experienced a single orgasm which included ejaculation and once that happened they were out for the count. Uncurling she set the controls to low and slid off the bed. There was just enough room between him and the bed that she was able to kneel. Running her hands up and down his things she smiled in that predatory way as she felt muscles quiver under her palms. Licking her lips she leaned over and licked his cock from the base to the tip.

He let out a chocked gasp when he felt her wet tongue swipe across his blood engorged cock leaving a cool stripe of dampness. His hips jerked as he unconsciously tried to thrust into the hot mouth that was surrounding him. A low whine escaped when that wet head vanished as suddenly as it arrived. With his eyes closed he didn't see her move but he could feel it.

Ashelin straddled him then lowered herself onto Torn's straining cock. With a slow rocking motion she rode him until she had the orgasm she desired. Curled against his chest, still impaled on his cock she started to laugh softly. A warm heat diffused through her body as came down from her sexual high leaving a decidedly relaxed feeling behind. Balancing herself on one hand she caressed his cheek then kissed him, tasting herself on his lips as she did so. "Are you ready babe?" she asked softly. It was a pre-arranged code that indicated she was done with playing around and wanted to know if he was as well.

Oh Mar was he ever ready to cum. Nodding his head, he drew in a deep breath then exhaled slowly. "Yeah sweetheart," he answered back.

The collar was the first piece she removed, tossing it onto the bed with the rest of the toys. Leaning back she was able to fish the controls off the bed and turned it off before tossing it back up to join the rest. "What next?"

"Arms."

Shifting she dismounted him then helped him up off his back. Removing the arm restraints was easy enough. When she unlocked his arms she rubbed his shoulders to make sure no unwanted strain was suffered before she removed each arm piece. They like the rest was tossed into the pile. The anal beads came next. Getting up on the bed he settled on his arms and knees. As the beads were pulled one by one from his ass, he groaned and his hips jerked. It felt good that they were gone even if he felt a little empty now. Those went straight to the bathroom and into a sink where they would be washed in hot soapy water then disinfected before being put away. As he lay there with his ass in the air and his head buried in a pillow, he reached between his thighs to gingerly fondle his weeping cock.

"Stop that," Ashelin said as she came back. Removing his hand she prodded him till he was sitting back on his haunches then slid onto the bed in front of him. "Come here," she told him as she drew him down with one arm, the other hand guiding his member into her. "Let me know when you're ready." Her fingers dancing along the cock ring's release as she waited for him to signal his readiness.

He slid into her slowly, hissing softly then nodded his head. Wincing, he forced himself to stillness as the cock ring was removed. He knew it would only take a few strokes for him to cum. Pulling back he thrust into her a few more times before letting out a drawn out grunt as he came harder than he had in a while. Hard enough his vision grayed out and his body quaked from the release.

She started to laugh again as he shuddered and gasp when she flexed her internal muscles.

"Stop... don't... Precursors!... That's not funny Ashelin..." he muttered as he pulled out of her and flopped to the side. Finally getting the energy up he lifted his head and looked down at his now flaccid organ. "Shit… I don't think I'll be getting it up again anytime soon…" Dropping his head back he closed his eyes, taking deep breaths to try and calm his still racing heart. He must have drifted off because next thing he knew she had a warm damp washcloth and was using it to clean him off. A little later he woke up again, this time to crawl out of the bed to deal with the urgent call of nature. Stumbling back to the bed afterwards, he spooned against her back and fell asleep once more.

The next morning, when Ashelin got up Torn never woke. Not even when she locked the house arrest bracelet around his wrist just before leaving for the day. She smirked as she exited her quarters, setting the command which would prevent him from leaving as she did so. If she had the chance, she'd check on him sometime during her lunch break. And if not, well she'd deal with a pissed off Torn when she got home for the evening.

-o-

(AN: Writing a sex scene and keeping it decent without going overboard on vulgarity or euphemisms isn't as easy as one would think. And with those two… well… needless to say that's what took me so long amongst other things. In reference to their hair, I know dreads can't be removed that easily. I know because I looked up info on that particular hair style. So I will say this: What they call dreads and what we call dreads are not the same thing. Besides, take a look at some pictures of people with dreads then look at Torn and Ashelin (as well as any other character with dreads) and you will see the difference.

Oh, she did leave him his communicator, but do you really think he'd call someone to come get him out of her quarters? Too many questions would be asked that he wouldn't answer which would cause a whole bunch of rumors.

I have to look at my notes to figure out what's next. Not sure how long it will take for me to write it either soo… lol have fun re-reading previous chapters, other author's works or replaying the games again.)


	6. Dark stalks Torn

Turning of the Wheel 06

A Jak and Daxter fanfic

By PhantomChajo

(A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know been a while. Blah, blah, blah. No excuses, just me being lazy and trying to work out an idea in my head. Random Hyper Person wanted DJ smut, so I've been tinkering with ideas and possibilities that would lead to where my notes point. DJ doesn't care when/where. Torn on the other hand is a nit-picking arse that refuses to co-operate with me. Bloody muses.

Torn informs Jack that the baron would have killed Ashelin if he didn't turn over info on the stone. The next time you see (a pale looking) Torn it's at the end of the game.... what happened in between? A lot for Jak but unknown for the Tattooed Wonder. Well this is my story so I get to decide what happens.

Dark Jak/Torn - Torn may have been in the KG at one time but he's not super(natural)-human(elf?) like Jak is. Oh and yeah.. smut in there somewhere…. Eventually… at the end I think.)

-0-

_Shadows and darkness. I am both yet neither. Those that have seen me, call me beast and monster. But I am neither of those. If I was asked what I am, I would say that I am a hunter and warrior, guardian and companion. I would say also that I am primitive when compared to the men and women of this time. Do not misjudge me or my words, for I have killed and I will kill again to protect those I have given my protection to. But if I am betrayed by someone whom I have protected, I will not hesitate to kill the betrayer. It matters not if that person is male or female. I am, in essence, a primal creature who cannot be tamed even though I am caged in the mortal flesh of this angry child._

_I lend him my strength, my form, my immunity to dark eco as well as my ability to channel the chaotic substance. In return I am given life once more, the freedom to move about and to seek pleasure where I find it. He has yet to understand me this mortal child, he blames the dark eco for everything that happens as much as he blames the older male who taught him the meaning of fear and pain, desire and hatred. Even his maker companion understands me more than he does. One day, if he survives he will understand and accept, but until that day I must bide my time. So I watch those around us. I watch and learn._

_I am currently watching the one others call the second in command to this group of outcasts called the underground. He is called Torn and it is a name that fits. When my angry child sleeps, I watch, listen and learn. The man called Torn is a true born War Leader. I have seen his kind before. I have seen him before. I have seen him some when in the past-future and called him companion and mate. Even during that future-past, he let his failings rule him. He is a stubborn bastard as well as a good bed-mate. My angry child has not learned the pleasures of the flesh or how to savor it, he was only taught to expect pain and humiliation. He will learn and I will not interfere as long as he does not interfere with my pursuit of my own pleasures._

_So for now I continue to watch the one that the others call Torn. I see how he paces with restless energy, how he leans against the table when he's exhausted but too stressed to rest. He thinks no one notices when he leaves just after night fall and returns days later, reeking of other males, strong drink, sour sweat and sickness. Others believe he is carrying out orders from the one called the Shadow and that when he comes back, that he is fine. They are only half right in the fact that he is carrying out those orders, but they do not ask why he is doing it personally when there are men and women waiting in the wings to do his bidding. They do not ask if he is well or not for they do not have the heightened senses that I have (and my angry child now posses though he understands them not.) They do not hear when the one called Torn retreats to the bathing room and forces himself to become sick once more to try and rid himself of whatever it was he had consumed while away. No one notices, least of all my angry child and his maker companion, when I take over our shared body to retrieve my past-future mate from the ice cold waters he lays passed out under. I dry him off and warm him up some which causes him to come to a little. I never stand where he can fully see me, always behind and to the side. A firm yet ghostly presence which sees to it he dresses and is able to claim a bunk to fall into, a bunk which is always close to the one I, my angry child and his maker companion, use. I know when morning comes, he is once more standing behind his table and making war plans. One day I will have him laid out across that table as I claim him as mine, giving and taking pleasure in his body. For now though I wait, watch and take care of him when he is in need._

_Today is not the day though. Today when he summoned us, he wanted revenge for the deaths of men he lost since the new war chariots arrived. I have to agree with my angry child, the War Leader's men should be able to take care of themselves. But if the chariots are as tough and dangerous as the War Leader tells, then maybe the men were out matched. Either way I prod my angry child to accept the order to carry out the planed revenge. Little did I know it would be the last I see of the War Leader in good shape for some time to come._

-0-

He cursed himself for being so blind to everything else when it came to his… needs. He should have contacted Ashelin and verified where the meeting was to take place. But no, instead he just foolishly went off to meet the Baron's daughter like a crocadog after a bitch in heat. All because he needed the tension relief that only she could provide him. No, corrected himself after several moments, she wasn't the only one that could give him the relief he sought, she was the only who he allowed to give him that relief. Instead, he ended up with an up close and personal meeting with the Baron. It was either by luck or by the Baron's orders that Erol wasn't there as well, although a full squad of KG was there in his place with orders from the sadistic commander.

Ignoring the searing pain that radiated outwards from his right kidney area as well as the dull ache coming from the rest of his body, he finished dressing. "Stupid fucker," he muttered as he stood up from where he had been sitting, a low hiss of pain escaping his gritted teeth. As he passed a downed KG, he delivered another savage kick to the guard's head before limping out of the room. "Silk ropes may look good in movies but it doesn't work worth crocadog shit for keeping someone tied up."

Torn knew that unless he got it taken care of as he soon as he got to the Underground's HQ then he'd be doing more than just pissing blood for the next week or two. He could survive on a single functioning kidney; people did it all the time, but usually after the damaged one had been removed. If the damaged organ was left in place it could cause some serious health issues, not that being a member of the Underground wasn't a serious health risk to begin with. A shot of green eco for the internal organs, a few hours rest and he would be good as he ever got.

Back in the room, one of the guards regained consciousness sooner than the rest. It took the guard several minutes to mentally piece everything together and another few to get to his feet. Looking around he finally spotted what he was looking for over on the far side of the room. Deciding to report in, he keyed up his com unit. "Lt. Brice reporting sir," he said as he made his rounds checking the rest of his squad.

"Report Lt. Brice," ordered the voice over the com.

"Sir, target was apprehended at the location specified. As per the Baron's orders, we transferred the traitor to the prison then proceeded to interrogate the traitor. Once the information was extracted and the Baron left, the traitor was sedated and moved back to the location where we first apprehended him. As per orders I was able to inject the first dose."

"Good, good.. And what location on the target did you inject it?"

Lt. Brice was inspecting the object in hand as he responded. "The right kidney area sir."

"Very good, do continue with your report Lieutenant."

"The target regained consciousness before I was able to fully inject the second dose. During the struggles the needle broke off and hypo shattered."

"What did you secure him with and how much were you able to inject Lieutenant?"

"Over half sir," Lt. Brice responded with a grimace. "And we used the ropes that were inside the room's storage box." If his ears could lay back any further they would have, but the helmet prevented that. The lieutenant knew better then to question the silence that greeted his reply. He had to wait it out or else face an even more pissed off Commander.

On the other side of the com, in the palace the KG Commander, Erol was looking though the reports on his desk. Every test subject had died an agonizing death from cascading organ failure and septic shock, which was what he wanted to happen. The length of time it took the test subject to die varied by dosage amount of course. "Hmm... enough to start the chain reaction even if it will be slower then planed. Yes… that will work just as well. It may not result in death, but it will be a slow and quite painful recovery that even green eco won't be able to speed up. Get your men together and report back to the palace. It seems that your training is lacking when it comes to securing captives with the appropriate material. Commander Erol out."

"Yes sir," Lt. Brice responded even though the connection was cut before he could say it. He went around checking the other guards one by one. Taking the opportunity since no one would question events; he easily broke the neck of the one guard he suspected of harboring sympathy for the Underground. When questioned later he claimed that the one death was caused by traitor, ensuring a continued hatred for Torn amongst the KG.

-0-

Making it from the south-western most corner of the west bazaar back to the Underground's HQ by zoomer took, on bad days maybe an hour, on the good days you could make it in under 30 minutes. Torn didn't have the luxury of having a zoomer handy when he left the location so he was huffing it on foot and any way he looked at it, it would take at least a couple of hours to make it back to the HQ.

The shortest path was the one that went towards the east cutting around the palace and going though the east bazaar then the northern most part of the industrial section before passing through the red gate checkpoint into the slums. The longest would be taking the northern path which lead though the bazaar, into the northern gardens then the business and stadium section of the city before zigzagging to the east and into the slums from the north-western direction. That was a path that would take him through three different check points though and also held the highest degree of getting re-captured. After several minutes of mental debating the pros and cons, he nixed the idea of going north. When he thought about the southern route back to the Underground HQ which would taking him through the south gardens, around the port then up through the industrial section before hitting the slums, he remembered that it also held two different check points. So he nixed that idea as well. With a soft grunt of pain he shoved off from the wall he'd been leaning against and started making his way east.

Luck only could get someone so far in Haven City. For Torn, the rest was pure skill, determination and stubbornness that only came from growing up in the slums then spending a majority of his life in the KG. In just under two hours Torn made it back to the HQ. Not too shabby for an injured man on foot who was dodging KG patrols. Since no one was there, it was easy enough to put the place in lockdown so he wouldn't have to answer any questions should anyone else show up. Having been dressed in civies for the little 'outing' it was of no loss when he stripped out of them and tossed them into the furnace. Uncaring that he was wearing nothing that he hadn't been born with, he made his way through a hidden side door to the bathroom. It was quick work to removed the rest of the dreads from his hair seeing how part of them had came undone during the Baron's questioning session. With the water on full hot he stepped under the stinging spray to thoroughly scrub himself clean, headless of how sore he was. The hot water lasted a whole ten minutes before going to mere lukewarm to ice cold.

With only a towel wrapped around his waist, Torn made his way back into the main room and the set of bunks. After going though the med supplies and taking what he needed, he headed to the bunk farthest from the always-on light. Flipping the guard surplus blanket and sheets back he sat down with a groan. Most of the bruising was to his torso, legs and upper arms, all easily hidden by his clothes and armor. He hoped that once he took the green eco shot, if there was anything left in his system after any internal damage had been taken care of, some of the nastier bruising would be soothed away as well. As much as he would have preferred using a combat eco pack, he knew that those needed to be saved for important missions. So instead he used the type commonly found in hospitals, walk in med-clinics and doctor's offices. The difference between the two was the fact that the eco in the combat packs was processed to include Epinephrine, an artificial adrenaline, to help kick the person's system into overdrive in order for the eco to work. The normal stuff tended to take a little while to work its way through the person's system. After what felt like hours, Torn was finally gifted with much needed and pain free sleep.

-0-

_I do not blame my angry child for his sense of betrayal. All the hard work, the blood and sweat, to get to the stone and then the false leader comes in with his modern technology to claim the stone. Those we left at the beginning are long gone, the child, the green man and the old one. Either they left on their own or else they were forcibly taken. I make my angry child stand still as I sniff the air. Old stones and time dominate but fresher scents criss-cross all over the place. The old one and the child seemed to have left before the rest. Makes sense for the child to become either tired or restless, it's in their nature. Another sniff as we turn this way and that. Ahh the woman from the bar was here as was several other underground members of no importance. And a larger group of those metal clad guards. It seems that those left did not go quietly. Good._

_Now to find the answer to the question of how did the false leader know about our move on the stone?_

When Jak stomped into the Underground HQ, he was glaring off towards the left where Torn normally stood behind the table. "How did the Baron know we were making a close moving to the Stone?" he asked.

"It's my fault," Torn answered with a tired voice. He was sitting on some crates under the hanging zoomer. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between them.

A look of surprise at the confession was shared between the two before they turned back to Torn.

"The Baron threatened to kill Ashelin for spying." He reached up with his right hand and ground the heel of his hand into his eyes. A throb of pain behind his eyes made him want to curl up in a dark cold place but he didn't have that luxury, he had to keep going. "His own daughter... I couldn't risk that… even for the Underground." He dropped his hand then looked up at Jak a moment then dropped his eyes once more.

From Jak's shoulder Daxter chimed in. "Right! Very good thinking… except Praxis has the Precursor Stone now, so he can do whatever he wants!" He stood up on his hind legs, perfectly balanced and crossed his arms.

Daxter's (or 'the rat' as he always thought of him) voice grated against Torn's nerves; even under normal circumstances the rat's high pitched voice was annoying. Now it was just piercing and painful. Standing up, "there is still a way to get our friends back," Torn said then crossed his arms over his chest. "And maybe the Precursor stone as well. I'll find Vin," he said pointing with a thumb to himself, "Go to the fortress, and we'll call you."

_Aahh so that is why the false leader knew of things. The War Leader was protecting someone he feels a loyal fondness to. I do not normally share but perhaps… hmmm… something is wrong. Even our maker companion senses it but doesn't have the courage to speak up, or perhaps he is unsure of what it is. Damn my angry child for he is distracting me with his.. hhmmfft… anger. _

"Why should we trust you?!" Jak questioned, pointing a finger in Torn's face.

"Because you and I both know the Baron would have killed Ashelin!" Torn growled back at Jak, dropping his arms, placing his hands on his hips closer to his pistols.

Jak just looked away as Daxter hung his head, shaking it slightly. Both had been so focused on Jak and his desire for revenge that they had forgotten about other people caught up in the mess that was Haven City.

With a sigh Torn looked up a moment. "It'll be a tough ride through the fortress, probably suicide." It was the truth, for anyone other than Jak that is. He watched the angry young man start to walk away from him.

Jak spun back around. "You just get that door open! I'll be there!" With that he turned and stomped out of the HQ.

Neither saw as the color slowly bleed from Torn's face, going from pale to pasty to green, nor did they hear as he lurched forward to drop to his knees over the drain as he vomited up everything he'd eaten and drank in the last few hours. He continued to dry heave for several more minutes before it was finally over. Too exhausted to do much, he simply collapsed on his side on the cold ferra-crete ground. The cold floor felt good to his suddenly too warm body. Minutes would pass before Torn had the energy to get to his feet once more. After all, there was work to be done that could not be passed on to another person nor that would not take care of itself.

-0-

One week later the order to move came through. Vin had been found and convinced to hack into the KG Fortress security and warp gate systems. For those members of the Underground who had been stuck in the same location with Jak, the call was a major relief. There was only so much a person could take of Daxter and there was only so much room one could give to an edgy, trigger happy killing machine called Jak. The Daxter quota was used up in the first few hours. As for Jak, the more the members of the Underground tried to avoid him the more annoyed he became. And the more annoyed he became the more they started to appreciate Daxter's ability to keep the angry young man calm (or as close as he ever came to calm).

With Torn hovering behind him, making him even more nervous than he usually was, Vin was able to divert a large percentage of KG away from the fortress and Jak's killing spree. Torn knew that many who were in the guard had little choice of occupations and thus didn't deserve a rather violent end to their career at the hands of Haven City's most wanted person. As soon as the Eco-Engineer powered up the warp gate, Torn grunted his approval then left. The Ex-KG commander wasn't having a very good day by that point and it was still going downhill. As soon as he stepped out of the Power Station he ran into a bored patrol just looking for trouble.

Jak was first through the warp gate, a diving roll that ended with him on his feet, gun at ready. He easily side stepped as Tess came through next, followed by the young Samos somewhat gracefully then the older Samos completely ungraceful like. The last through was Daxter, who easily landed on all fours and scrambled though the pile of limbs to reclaim his place on Jak's shoulder. They could hear the sounds of a running gun fight fading in the distance.

"Hate to be the poor sap that pissed the guard off out there," Dax commented in an off handed manner.

Jak just chuckled softly at that comment, having been the 'poor sap' that pissed off the guard on more than one occasion. He glanced around a moment, unconsciously sniffing the air as he did. "Hey Vin, was Torn here?" he asked as something prickled the back of his mind.

The spastic Eco-Engineer didn't look away from the large screen scrolling with information as his fingers danced across the boards gracefully. "Huh? Wha? Oh yeah. Torn. He was here then left once I got the warp gate going… now if you don't mind I'm trying to keep my skin intact and misdirect the security scans thank you very much!"

"Tattooed Wonder was actually here and not in his dark dank cave staring at his maps?" Dax asked sarcastically. "Quick, someone check to be sure we're in the right reality!"

By that time Tess and both Samos's had gotten straightened out and was listening in on the comments.

The younger of the two sages chimed in with the same 'know it all' attitude as the older. "My second in command can handle himself. Don't worry about him, he'll be waiting on us back at the headquarters with several strategies already formulated and just waiting on the right people to assign them to. And speaking of headquarters, I need to get back to oversee everything. Are you coming Old Growth?" he asked his older time twin as he stumped off towards the door.

"We'll talk later Jak," the older said as he followed his younger self out the door, muttering about how little the younger really knew.

Tess waited until both Samos's had left and Vin was off doing something deeper in the power station's interior before she turned with that too bubbly smile of hers. "Daxie…honey buns..and Jak. I'll only say this once so listen up, 'kay?"

Jak was eyeballing Tess like she was some strange creature he wasn't sure if it was friendly or not. Daxter on the other hand was off in lala-land as he stared dreamily at the blonde bar maid.

Once the other elf nodded, Tess continued on. "Before you showed up Torn was the one taking on all those dangerous missions. I'm even willing to bet he's still doing most of the nastier ones as well." She quickly placed a finger against the ottsel's lips before he could make a comment. "I'm not talking about those nasty icky missions where you come back smelling like a sewer either. So I want you two to go out and see if you can find him before the guard does. Because if he's caught by the guard and something bad happens to him... let's just say you won't be very popular. Do you both understand me?" she didn't wait for an answer as she smiled again then blew a kiss at Daxter and waved to Jak on her way out. "Good, see you around boys."

"She's really…." _Scary, psychotic even?_

"Rrraaww! What a woman!"

"uh.. yeah, whatever Dax. Come on, let's get this over with." _Hmm… I have to agree with our maker companion, what a woman indeed, but more than a little on the scary side with the way she switches gears._

"Do we hav'ta?" _Yes we do._

"Do you want her mad at you?" _Do you want to piss off the female who mixes your drinks?_

"eehh….. Good point." _Thought you'd see it our way._

The pair followed the path of carnage and destruction like a pair of fascinated kids. They, or rather Jak, were the ones who usually made those paths so seeing its aftermath was rather enlightening to say the least. As they walked past the smoking ruin that was once a twin-seated zoomer, Jak paused. The smell of charred flesh slowly wafted up from the black and twisted metal. Turning his head he mentally measured the distance between the wreckage and where the blaster cannons were located.

"Not everyone is as good of a driver as you are Jak," Dax said softly as he nuzzled the young man's cheek.

Reaching up he scratched behind one ear then under Dax's chin. "Yeah, I know Dax."

As they continued on they could hear the angry mutterings and grumblings about how indiscriminate the blaster cannons were, about how much trouble the Underground was causing for those not involved. It was one of the rare times Dax kept quite. Even though he wanted to yell at the ones grumbling for letting everything go as far as it had, he would then remember what he had to do in those two years without his best friend and huddle closer on Jak's shoulder. As for the young man, he would just reach up and scratch behind an ear or under the chin without saying a word. A silent understanding passing between them.

What looked to be aimless path was in fact several attempts to head back towards the slums only to be forced once more in the direction of dead ends and side paths that looped back to the main areas of the industrial section that had the blaster cannons. By the time the duo made it to the port, dusk was settling in and the normal temperature for the area felt like it was dropping some. They passed a larger number then usual of KG patrols as they made their way around to the western side of the port. As they passed the crimson armored guards, they listened for any mention of Torn.

"Yes sir, the traitor's stolen zoomer has been recovered from the bottom of the port...", "No sir, we did not find any bodies...", "Yes sir. Understood Sir.", "Keep searching the area men."

The duo shared a look. If no bodies were found and they were still searching that meant Torn was still alive somewhere.

"Hey Jak, didn't that guard say the bottom of the port?"

"Yeah Dax, what of it?"

"As much as I hate getting wet, especially with it getting colder, oh I know I'm gonna regret even saying this...."

"Spit it out Dax," Jax said in exasperation.

"Let's take a spin around the Port on the hoverboard. There I said it." Dax huffed as he balanced on his legs, arms crossed over his furry chest.

Jak thought about it for several moments. Time and again when he was in the port area, he'd given his pursuers the slip by dropping off whatever zoomer he was on, into the water only to resurface in a different spot on his hoverboard. If Torn was as experienced and crafty as everyone seemed to indicate then it wouldn't be farfetched for him to do something similar. "Good plan Dax," he said approvingly.

_Yes good plan indeed. My future-past War Leader and mate was indeed that crafty and it seems he has not forgotten any of his tricks, no matter how many times the wheel has turned for him. Let us hope that the wheel has not made another rotation taking him on to his next life, for if it has... this city will not have to fear death from the metal heads._

With experienced ease, Jak had the hoverboard off his back, open and on the ground in moments. Going left he skimmed over the ground, gaining speed as he went down the incline weaving between the Havenites as they scattered with yells and curses before him. He zoomed up the incline in a crouch performing a boost jump at the top, clearing a low flying zoomer in the midst of a lane change as he did. He ignored the fast, heated exchange between the driver and Dax as he avoided a KG patrol by a good margin (just to be safe). If he was going to search the port waters then he would start close to the wall and work his way around the bridges that connected to the port center towers. From there he would then search the inner areas of the port near the large Industrial section cooling towers.

_Look for Red my angry, mortal child. The War Leader always wears his blood scarf openly. Hmmm.. much like you do in fact. I wonder, is it a display of shame or pride to have survived where no other person has?_

Making a fast but thorough search around the automated barges that moved around the port, he noted that there was enough room under the rear fins that a person could hold on and still have their head above water to breath. Passing the walk-way bridges he scanned the sides then passed under the arched bridge that connected the two port towers. No flashes of red at water level, just the occasional flash of crimson boots as he passed the maintenance ramps. Now that the outer section search was complete it was time to search the inner port area. Full dark had set in and the only illuminations were from the headlights of the zoomers flying over head which didn't do much in the way of lighting up the water, and the large street lights spaced evenly along the Port.

"Jaaaakk! We couldn't find a day glow yakkow in the dark much less a Tattooed Wonder that may or may not be playing in the water," Dax whined. "And I'm wet and cold and tired. Can't we go to the Hip-Hog to warm up, dry out and get a drink?"

Jak continued to scan the waters as he replied to his friend. "And if we did that, what would you tell Tess when she asks about Torn?"

"Whatta'ya mean, what would I tell Tess? You'd be the one explaining buddy boy while I do the drinking!" Daxter replied as he huddled closer to the blond-green teen's leg.

Reaching down Jak scooped Daxter up without losing his balance on the hoverboard and held the ottsel close to his chest. Between the dark eco treatments and the long sleeved armored over-tunic he was wearing, the cold and damp didn't bother him. Even before they arrived in Haven City, the cold never really bothered Jak much. The ability to channel all the colors of eco meant he always had a tiny reserve tucked away. Red to keep him warm, green meant he healed faster than the average person, blue allowed him to go longer without needing rest and yellow, well yellow just gave him a brighter outlook on life in general. But since he'd been experimented on things had changed somewhat. He still had accelerated healing, still had that seemingly boundless energy and didn't feel the cold like others, but his outlook on life was darker and he couldn't use colored eco anymore. Green eco still worked somewhat for him but required larger amounts then the average person. A soft chuckle accompanied by gently stroking fingers lulled Daxter into sleep as the teen continued his search. To the average citizen it would look like a teen out enjoying themselves, leisurely gliding over the port waters on a hoverboard and winding their way around the industrial cooling towers in the dark of the night. To the KG it was a potential troublemaker planning on either sabotage or graffiti.

The dreaming ottsel was rather rudely taken from his paradise of scantily clad girls and pools of chocolate and plunked down into the cold dismal reality of Green Sun up over a foggy port. "Huh? What? Jaaaaak," he whined trying to burrow back into the warmth he was pulled out of. "Let'me sleep."

"I need you to wake up," the teen said as he guided the hoverboard around the far western cooling tower once more. The only way to stop it was to dismount and that meant a plunge into the water. Not that he minded but he'd rather not have an irate, rather loudly complaining ottsel on hand to bring the attention of everyone currently awake and in the area to their position. "I found'em Dax."

Dax still wasn't fully awake yet it seemed. "Found who? What're we still doing out here for?" he asked turning his head to look forward. They were slowing down as they approached the area of the cooling tower where the pipes descended down into the murky waters. "Who… Oh crap!" he quickly scrambled up out of his friend's arms and onto his shoulder. The farther up he got the less likely he'd be completely soaked when they got off the board. When the teen de-activated the board he gave a mighty leap from his perch into the air. If he timed it right he wouldn't get very wet. And if he didn't, well let's just say he's had a lot of practice. "Give a fellow a better warning next time will ya?" he groused from his now soaked perch on Jak's shoulder.

The renegade teen didn't say anything as he swam the rest of the way to where he'd spotted the Underground's second in command. From what he could make out in the dark shadows, it looked like Torn had managed to find an access ladder to cling to. He tried to get the older man's attention first by slapping the water then by making a sound. Neither worked. "Dax, when I get closer climb up the access ladder."

"Uh… sure thing buddy, but why? It's only the old nail gargler."

Jak just arched an eyebrow in response. As soon as he felt the weight vanish from his shoulder, he moved in closer to Torn. It was just a feeling he had that Torn would react rather violently. He had to admit, if just to himself, he would have been hard pressed to win against Torn had they been on dry land and the older male was in better obvious shape. When the struggles finally slowed from frantic to just sluggish, Jak had his arm wrapped around Torn's throat which kept his head above water as the older male weekly coughed out the water he inhaled. The teen managed to maneuver them once more back to the ladder and even was able to hook a leg around one side to keep them anchored in place. Ignoring the grasping fingers that were trying to pry his arm off, Jak used his free hand to brush across Torn's forehead. "Damn, he's as cold as a snow lurker," the teen muttered. "Dax, get my communicator and see if you can get anyone on the line. He's in bad shape. Really bad shape," worry colored his voice in an unusually show concern for anyone other than his ottsel friend.

The ottsel looked from Torn to the communicator and back again. "Jak buddy? Do you trust me?"

Jak looked up at those words, dark blue eyes blinking several times before he nodded. Of course he trusted his friend, even though said friend had gotten him into a few tight spots over the years. In truth it should be the other way around the way he drug Daxter into more messes that one could count.

The elf turned ottsel nodded before scrambling up the ladder and placing the call. When he came back down he was both worried and relieved at the same time. "Promise me pal you won't go all dark, gruesome and slash happy on the people coming to help." He gave his best kicked crokapuppy look.

The teen glanced away before looking back at the ottsel. "Dax, I can't promise anything OK? You know how it is when…"

"Yeah buddy, I know…" Dax said with a soft sign. Climbing down further so he leaned out, gently running a finger across a darkening bruise on his friend's cheek. "Heh, looks like he got one on you."

Jak smirked. "A lucky shot." He slid his free arm under Torn's side and around his waist then loosened his arm from around the man's neck.

"Yeah right pal. I'd like to see you two go at it just to see whose better."

The renegade teen cocked his head to the side so he could get as clear a view of the Underground's tactical genius. Too pale skin caused the tattoos to stand out in stark relief, even in the wan green tinted light of the world's second smaller sun. "If he's up to it when he's better," the green-blond said softly, not liking the way the older male was breathing, fast and shallow. With his enhanced senses, Jak was even able to hear the thudding of a too fast heartbeat. Hell most of the time he could discern the difference between the various vehicles used in and around the city. He knew the difference between higher pitched whine of a single seat and mid-ranged multi-seat zoomers, the deeper growl of Hellcat cruisers and the whistling warble of the single seat KG zoomers. It was easy to hear the various sounds that floated across the rippling waters; the last of the drunks being thrown out of the Hip-Hog by Sig, metal soled boots against the ferra-crete of the port as KG patrolled, reported in or just chatted. So when the low pitched moaning wail of the approaching vehicle reached his ears, a shiver ran up and down his spine as flutflutbumps pebbled his skin like no tomorrow. Something about that sound just set off all his instincts to run, find a place to hide and hope it passed him by. "Daxter?! What the fuck is that thing?!" he demanded as he tried to angle both himself and Torn deeper under the cooling tower.

The sound, while not affecting the ottsel AS bad as his friend, was still a bit on the unnerving side. "That Jak, is our way out of here." His ears were laid back as he shook himself, fur fluffing out before resettling the way it should.

The 'That' in question was a large hover vehicle. The front half where the driver/pilot sat was roughly shaped like a Hellcat cruiser, while the back half was shaped like a cross between the air-tran and a lurker transport but with a fully enclosed back half. No windows, open bars or visible doors could be seen as it dropped lower over the water, slowing to a halt before it slowly spun around so the back was to the cooling tower. Any questions on how the thing opened up was answered as the entire rear folded down the exact same way as the air-tran did.

As Jak watched, a mini-crane arm extended out and a figure stepped off the back, plunging into the port waters. The whine of a safety line unreeling as well as the splash, were both muffled by the sound of the engines. As soon as the figure broke the surface of the water, Jak was already taking their measure. It wasn't hard to see the crimson color of the figure's face mask and uniform. A growl escaped him before he was able to stop it. He trusted Daxter and had to keep on believing his diminutive friend hadn't betrayed. He opened his mouth to say something but the ottsel beat him to it.

"Sweet precursors you took your time getting here. We've been waiting Hours!"

_It's only been about twenty minutes since we found the War Leader,_ the entity within the teen grumbled with a mental roll of the eyes. _You need to learn how to tell time better._

Once the KG was within arm's reach of the pair a hand came up to flip the mask up to the top of their head. Mismatched blue and green eyes stared at the pair for several seconds before cutting to the side to the orange figure dangling from a ladder. Those strange eyes shifted back to the pair in front of her (for yes indeed, the person was female) to study them a moment. She didn't need to look twice at the older male with the tattoos, she knew who he was. It was the younger one behind that she looked at. She'd seen his images enough times to figure out who it was. "Well fuck me running backwards with a purple and pink dildo! You weren't shitting me, where you mischief maker?!"

The elf-turned-ottsel went from happy go lucky to very serious in seconds. "CeCe baby, I had abso-freaking-luttly no reason to be wasting a favor if I wasn't serious." Daxter eyed the KG a moment then looked up to the back of the vehicle. "You bring the goods?"

"Yeah kiddo, I got the goods," she turned and looked at Jak. "Alright Jafo, you're gonna have to give me the boss man there so I can get him up there to the docs so they can work their magic. I don't care if you don't trust me, but do yourself a favor and trust your friend there," she said jerking a thumb in Dax's direction. "Otherwise this is a wasted trip for me, a blown favor for him and that one's death sooner rather than later." Treading water easily she flipped the mask back down and motioned with her hands for the green-blond teen to let go of the former KG commander so she could take him.

'No!' Jak mentally yelled at the guard in front of him as he just glared. _Just relax your grip and ease him over to her_. 'Why should I? She's a Krimson Guard, she'll just hand him over to that bastard Erol or the Baron for a reward,' he argued with himself._ How do you know?_ 'She's a KG,' he countered._ Your point? Isn't there a certain red-headed daughter of the baron who is also a member of that group? And for that matter, it was also the occupation of the one you're holding?_ '....' He couldn't come up with anything in reply. _Yeah, thought that's what you'd say. Now let him go and gently move him over to her_. He tightened his grip slightly before he let go, shifting Torn into the KG's waiting arms. "He had better not die," he growled, eyes darkening several shades as he did.

The guard just nodded looping her arms around Torn's middle and wedged her knees between his legs. When she clasp her hands together it activated the circuits in her harness which in turn activated the safety line reel. With a few taps of her fingers she was able to control the speed, thus ensuring a smooth journey through the short distance from under the cooling tower to under the crane arm. The transition from water to air was just as smooth as the two was lifted up and pulled into the back of the vehicle.

Daxter, as much as he hated getting wet was fairly good at swimming. Launching himself from the ladder into the water, he paddled his way out past his friend so that he was closer to the vehicle. "Come on Jak," he called as he cut through the water, impatiently waiting on CeCe to return for them.

_Quite glaring and get your ass out there my angry child_.

Taking a deep breath then letting it out with a huff, Jak swam out to where the ottsel was splashing around to wait for his own ride up. He didn't have to wait long either. A warning to watch out was all he got before she cleaved the water right next to him. He bit out an oath as he shook reached up and wiped the water off his face, glowering at Daxter as the ottsel snickered.

"You choose Jafo, facing me or with your back to me."

"What?"

"Back or front. For the trip up," she said pointing up.

"Ling! Get your ass up here _**now**_!" a voice yelled down from the back of the vehicle. "He's fighting us!"

"Nucker Futz," Ling muttered before she reached out and yanked Jak close enough to wrap her arms about his waist. "Daxter, up here now or else you get left behind." The mask hid her wince as the ottsel's claws dug into her arm and shoulder as he clambered up to drape about her neck. "Hold on," was all she said before she tapped her fingers causing the line to jerk then up into the air.

The teen grunted, grabbing her shoulders as they went up. As they hung there over the open water for a few moments before sliding the short distance into the back of the vehicle, Daxter clambered over to his shoulder. When they were over solid flooring he felt her let go dropping him the short distance. Seconds later she was dropping to the floor as well, leaving the harness dangling from the crane arm above them, as she vanished down a short narrow corridor. The pair exchanged glances before following her.

When Ling set foot into the open area she automatically scanned the space, mentally mapping where everyone and everything was. The two doctors were to either side, trying to calm down the sopping wet and obviously delirious male. Torn was up against a wall with his blade out threatening the other two, his eyes darting back and forth as he sought out a means of escape. She didn't give him much of a chance to adjust to her presence as she dashed across the short space. Ramming into him, she grabbed his blade hand with enough force that he had a choice, either to let go or a have his wrist broken. Just because he was momentarily pinned didn't mean he was down for the count. Moving one foot he thrust his leg between hers then twisted. Had his strength been greater it would have worked fully to his advantage but since it wasn't, then it didn't.

With all the weight to one side of the vehicle it tilted, when that happened the stabilizer units re-routed power forcing the a-grave unit on that side to up its output thus righting the vehicle once more to the proper level. Everyone except Jak, who was in the narrow doorway watching and thus somewhat braced, went stumbling in the opposite direction.

Using the momentum to aid her, she twisted and flipped forcing Torn onto his chest. The force of the impact, though light, still knocked the breath from his lungs stunning him long enough that she was able to wrench his arms up behind his back. Making sure she had his wrists locked in place, she dropped her head against his shoulder. "Damn it Torn, why can't you be a miserable fuck like everyone else when they're out of it? Why do you have to be such a fucking paranoid bastard?" she muttered. With her free hand she stroked one of his ears from base to tip, over and over as she murmured softly into the other. When he calmed down to her satisfaction she slowly let go of his wrists. When he made no move to get up she heaved a sigh and rolled off of him. Turning her head she checked the others. "Everyone still alive and breathing?" once she got the answers she nodded and stood up. "Good. He's all yours so take care of him," she told the two doctors then turned her attention to the teen still standing in the doorway. "And you, I don't give a flying fuck if you don't like it, but strip out of those wet clothes, dry off and put these on," she ordered picking up small bag and chucked it at Jak's head before turning and ducking through the narrow door to the front of the vehicle.

Reflexively Jak caught the bag but didn't look in it just yet. Instead he watched the other two as they methodically stripped Torn of everything he was wearing. He found the bag very interesting when they started reveling a lot more flesh then he was comfortable seeing on another guy. Every time he would look away though, it was like a magnet was pulling his eyes back to where he didn't want them to go.

"Oh for Mar's sake! If your that embarrassed about seeing another man nude then I suggest you had best hurry up, change and get up front," came a deep voice with an accent that reminded him somewhat of Krew.

Jak jerked his head up to stare, eyes wide and a fierce blush crawling across his cheeks. He turned away and stomped down the narrow corridor to the end of the transport in order to change. He kept one ear out for the sound of anyone approaching.

"For the love of precursor orbs," Daxter muttered from his spot on the ground. "You change and I'll be up front with CeCe." He didn't give his friend a chance to reply as he scampered down the short corridor through the room and out the other door.

Jak frowned then looked down at the clothes he pulled from the bag. As much as he wanted to shred the material, a rational part of him pointed out that in doing so, he may just end up dumped from the vehicle and if that happened he'd have no way of knowing what would happen to the Underground's tactical genius. With great reluctance he put the outfit on. _Hmmm.. not a bad fit if I do say so myself. Too bad the color doesn't suite you my angry child_. He felt undressed without his harness, backpack or other gear on but the yakow leather was just as wet as the rest of his stuff. When he made his way back to the open area he once again stopped in the doorway and watched.

The open area was more or less square, with only the door he was standing in and the one directly across from it breaking the smooth walls. An a-grave stretcher was lowered by the dusky doctor as the pale one slide a needle into the flesh of Torn's arm with care.

"Remind me to rip him a new one," said the darker of the pair.

"A-Ah!" chided the pale one, removing the vial of blood then inserting a filled one into the hypo. "Medical attention first, verbal evisceration afterwards Ruko."

"Seriously Thanil, he's never let himself get this bad when he was in the Guard," Ruko stated.

"Probably because his commanding officers, at the time, had actual concern for those under them. Hmmm.. Tell me young man, has he come in contact recently with Dark Eco?" The second vial, now empty was chuckled along with the used hypo into a bio-hazard bin.

"Uh.. not that I know of why?" Jak asked slightly puzzled as well as a tad guilty tone. _You don't count; you're not an open source of Dark Eco._

"You can put your stuff in the bin with all of his gear," instructed the dusky skinned doctor, Ruko as he and Thanil lifted Torn off the floor and onto the stretcher.

"Where's Daxter?" Jak asked as he placed his gear with Torn's, moving to the other side of the space, out of the way as the stretcher was maneuvered to give both doctors plenty of room to move. He didn't miss the fact that his question wasn't answered concerning the Dark Eco.

"Daxter? Ah… the small furry orange one. Hmm an ottsel if I'm not mistaken. Your companion has already joined our esteemed, yet quite cranky Krimson Guard sergeant at the front of the vehicle," said Thanil holding up an object in a questioning manor. Receiving a negative replay he placed the item back where he picked it up.

Jak continued to watch as an oxygen mask was placed over Torn's face, the plastic distorting the oddly serene looking expression the older male wore. Once more his eyes roamed of their own accord over the Underground's second in command. Tattoos traversed across shoulders and his chest as well as down his arms. The blue-gray ink was mixed in with yellow-greens of healing bruises and angry reds of close call blaster fire. A sterile white towel was draped over the groin area to provide a mediocre amount of modesty though all it did was draw attention to that blank space. Long, lean legs of an athlete ended at feet that were long and narrow with toes that looked just as long and quite flexible. The sudden scent of freshly spilled blood drew his attention like a magnet to the dusky skinned doctor as the man connected the IV to the needle now embedded in Torn's left arm. When he looked up, Thanil was watching him with dark eyes and the slightest hint of a smirk.

He was hit with a strong sense of having seen the pale doctor before. The shape the face, the dark hair and equally dark eyes set against skin that held just the barest hint of lavender-gray to it. It all became too much for him to take in as memories of his own time under such conditions came flooding back. The images of the bodies of a failed DWP subjects being dissected by scientists and doctors flashed before his eyes. He had to slam his eyes closed and turn away lest those images impose themselves over the scene before him. The smell of blood, medical compounds and disinfectants didn't help as the sudden urge to lash out at the two men, to drive them away from Torn. He didn't feel it when his fingernails pierced the palms of his white-knuckled fists.

The press of a small furry body draped about his shoulders, head rubbing against his cheek and the white noise of words being spoken over and over again finally brought him out of the black haze of his memories. Blinking he found himself seated on the passenger side but turned so he faced the middle, a towel rested across his knees to catch the over-spill from his cupped hands. He hissed as the alcohol came in contact with the bloody crescents but he didn't jerk his hands away, instead he flexed his hands allowing the stinging liquid to work into the cuts. A pair of hands came into his view, long fingered with blunt nails and a few scars across the knuckles. At first, he thought of Keira but realized the hands were wrong. Fingers too long, no embedded grease and oil around the nails and not enough scars across the knuckles. He watched those hands work with quick efficiency, much the same way Torn's hands moved when he drafts out plans and strategies. It wasn't long before a gel was slathered across the wounds and they were covered with sterile pads then wrapped in gauze.

_Say 'Thank you' my mortal child._ "…. Thank you…" _Good boy._

A moment of silence then a grunt of acknowledgement, "Yeah… well it was either patch you up or have mischief maker there get all bent out of shape."

Jak turned his head and tilted it down to meet the head still rubbing against his cheek. Reaching up he scratched behind ears and under the chin of his friend, careful of the bandages as he did so. "Thanks Dax," he uttered softly.

"Someone's gotta take care of you, ya big lug," Daxter muttered gruffly as he flexed his paws in the material of the teen's tunic. "Now turn around and face forward will ya? Can't see anything with your head in the way."

The teen did as his friend told him to do, turning around so that he faced forward in the seat. He looked around at the buildings they were now passing then over the edge of the vehicle's side. The water channel that cut through the middle of the avenue gave him the needed clue as to where they were. He was so use to zooming down through the channels to avoid the congestion of zoomers and pedestrians as well as the KG patrols that he never bothered to look up or slow down anymore. As he continued to watch the scenery go by, he felt Dax's breathing even out and knew his friend had fallen asleep, draped across his shoulders. Turning his head slightly he was able to look at the crimson clad woman sitting in the driver's seat. "Why do you keep calling me Jafo?" he finally asked.

Ears twitched at the sound of another voice, she'd become so accustomed to doing her job alone that the few times she'd been assigned an assistant she'd still do everything herself. "When you figure it out, let me know," Ling replied glancing down at the instrument panel then back up again. Reaching over to the center console she taped the screen bringing up a map of the city. With each tap of her finger she switched views and on each view were a multitude of dots. Pressing another button she waited till the crackling of an open mike settled down. "Hmmm couple more hours to hit each area of the patrol then return home," she said, as much for herself as for her passengers. "How's it going back there?"

"It's going well, all things considered," Ruko's voice, hollow and metallic sounding, floated out of the speaker. "Found the primary cause of the problem."

"Nasty little bugger isn't it?" Thanil commented.

"Indeed. We should have the issue cleaned up and the patient stitched up baring anything else that may or may not be found by the time your patrol ends."

"Hn.. good. If anything comes up hit the alert." She turned off the interior com and settled back once more. Neither one spoke after that, at least not till Ling finished her patrol of the city. They ended up in the north-western most area of the industrial section, right where it borders with the eastern bazaar. She pulled a device from one of the pouches on her belt then clicked the button. A section of the wall opened up to reveal a spacious garage. In a matter of moments, the vehicle was backed into its spot and the doors were closing. A moment of darkness before the interior lights came on, slowing illuminating the garage and everything in it. As she went through the shut down procedures she motioned for Jak head into the cargo area. "See if they need any help, I'll be there in a moment."

Jak just nodded as he stood up, pulling the still sleeping ottsel off his shoulder and into the cradle of his arms. Once in the back he surveyed everything. Torn was on his left side covered up to his neck with a thick thermal blanket, the oxygen mask still in place. "Why aren't you using green eco?" Jak asked as he looked at the bags hanging from the pole on the stretcher.

"Because, contrary to the popular belief young man, Green Eco does not solve everything medically or physically wrong with a person. This is a perfect example of how it can cause more harm than good," Thanil explained as Ruko checked the bags one more time making sure everything was secure for the move. "Here's the cause of all the problems your friend had." He held up a specimen vial, inside was a three inch long broken hypo needle. "I would hazard to say that after receiving this he used Green Eco to heal whatever injuries he had at the time not realizing he was carrying around a little souvenir from his experience. The initial entry wound itself was probably so small that it was easy to over look. So when the Eco was used, it caused his body to create a pocket if you will, around the foreign object. From there his body considered it an invader and did everything possible to be rid of it. At some point in time, I believe that pocket ruptured releasing the infection into his system before it closed again. And after that, everything went downhill like a preverbal snowball into a lava pit. Right now Green Eco would cause, in the long run, more damage than it would solve. Green Eco would weaken his immune system instead of boosting it. Your friend will not be receiving any of that nonsense from us until we are satisfied the blood infection has been dealt with."

"So you got him doped, drugged and out like a blown light?" Ling asked as she came through the door and headed across the space to the opposite door to the cargo area.

Ruko laughed lightly. "Pretty much hit the metalhead on the skullgem. Since Alara is still away I'll be staying to keep an eye on him, at least for the next few days."

"Hn… good thing I got room huh?" she commented as she reached up to the ceiling, flipping open a panel. Beeping echoed though the area followed by a hiss as connections released and seals broke. The sections on either side of the narrow corridor moved outwards reveling gaps in the ceiling and walls and tracks on the floor. "I'll deal with this once I get everyone settled then deal with supplies," she said, flipping the panel closed and walking forward to open the rear hatch.

By noon prime sun, Torn had been settled into the master bedroom and Jak was asleep in a chair next to the bed, Ruko had claimed the smaller guest room and was currently updating his private medical files, and Daxter was curled sharing a patch of sunlight with Ling's two muses in the main room. Thanil had returned to his own apartment before he headed off to his place of work with the promise of coming back in a few days with test results of the blood sample he'd taken from Torn. As for Ling, once everyone was settled she headed into the bazaar to stock up on food and supplies before returning to the garage to work. She reasoned that since she had a cot in the garage, she could always crash there if she got tired.

-0-

It was three days later over dinner when Jak got to meet Ruko's wife, Alara, for the first time. It was also the first time Torn had been awake for more than a few minutes.

Having completed the job of escorting Krew's men through the sewer to the statue, Jak returned to Ling's place instead of heading to the Underground HQ. He didn't feel like dealing with Samos (either of them) right then and he wanted a hot shower to wash away the stink of both Krew and the sewers as well as the residual smell of dark eco and metalheads. As he stumbled though the garage side door, he spotted a second vehicle parked next to Ling's cruiser. It was the same type used to transport Lurkers around to different locations within the city. He didn't get far before a rather large Lurker blocked the access to the door into the main residency. He honestly didn't want to get into a fight with the creature but damn it all he wanted that shower and a chance at something to eat. After several moments of trying to side step the lurker he gave up when his every move was countered. "Damn it," he muttered then turned his head to glare at Daxter, who was snickering on his shoulder perch. "What?!"

"Nothing big guy," Dax said then hopped off his friend's shoulder. The ottsel sauntered over to the lurker as pretty as you please and crossed his arms over his furry chest. The lurker crouched down and sniffed at Daxter. Whatever it smelt, it seemed satisfied as it sat down (still blocking the doorway) and made a gesture with its large paws. Daxter nodded then made gesture in return. The lurker grunted standing up again but not moving from his place. Daxter laughed as he scampered between the large creature's legs, vanishing through the door.

"What? Daxter? Dax? HEY! Come back here!" Jak yelled as he took a step forward. "Damn it Daxter come ba-" The teen cut off what he was about to say to dodge the swipe from the large furry paw of the lurker. "Damn it!" _Don't worry; I'll remind you to get back with the furry rat at a later time._

"Problems Jafo?" Ling asked as she leaned against the door frame, a grin plastered on her face.

The renegade growled, getting more pissed as the moments went by. "What the fuck is a lurker doing in here and why won't it move?" his ears were laid back showing just how angry he was.

The KG sergeant just laughed again. "Cool your heels a moment, let me get his mot...er.. handler." Still laughing softly she disappeared into her home.

Jak just glared, arms crossed over his chest as that sometimes annoying voice nattered on in his head. _As much as I agree with the idea of killing that beast I highly doubt it would sit well with those inside. Besides, we stink and are in need of a bath and we're hungry. The guard has fixed her specialty tonight; I can smell it from here. The food is good here; better then that hole in the ground place. And I don't 'natter'._

"Heyla Kama, hata-mai. Hata-mai." A strange woman wearing the uniform of the Krimson Animal Control appeared behind the lurker, patting its back a few times. "Take off one of your gloves then hold out your hand for me," she instructed as she continued to pat then scratch the lurker's head.

With his arms still crossed over his chest and glaring, he spoke. "Why?"

The blue-gray haired woman just laughed. "If you want inside you'll have to do as I say for the moment." Turning her head she fixed the teen with a parental look that clearly stated he wasn't getting away with anything.

Jak's glare cooled to a stare that shifted to a look before he was squirming under her gaze. Grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of being shorter than almost every single person he'd meet since he'd arrived in Haven City as he removed his gauntlet with ill grace. Sticking out his hand he waited for whatever to happen, to happen. So when the woman calmly took his hand and pulled him close he was a bit perplexed, especially when she draped her arm over his shoulder. No one had wanted to get close to him since he'd gotten out of prison. Add in the fact he stank from his little trip through the sewers, and well yeah to say he was confused was putting it mildly.

The woman turned his hand over so it was facing palm up then crooked a finger and called the lurker over. "What's your name Jafo?" she asked.

"….Jak… and why does everyone call me Jafo? Ling won't tell me and neither will anyone else," Jak answered back.

She laughed again, "Well Jak, I'll give you one hint. Just observe. Now, Kama this is Jak. Jak's a friend." The lurker, Kama, bent down and sniffed at Jak's hand for a moment, glancing up at the woman and tilting its head to the side a moment before tilting it the other way. It started sniffing again.

"What hint? Just observer what?" Suddenly Jak found himself in a lurker sized hug as the big creature continued to happily snuffle the teen from chest to the tip of his ears. "Wha- ahh! Hey! Stop.. Stop that!" he didn't want to hurt the beast but damned if it didn't tickle! If he'd been confused before he was flabbergasted at what happened next.

"Friend?" the lurker asked more of itself then the two humans. "Kama friend? Jak friend? Kama and Jak friends!..Smell bad. Jak friend smell bad. Needs bath." Kama firmly stated as he put Jak down then moved away from the door to sit.

The KAC was still laughing at Kama's antics. "Yes Kama, Jak needs a bath." She wrinkled her nose at Jak then smiled. "Badly. Go on inside, I'll be back in, in a moment," she told the teen as she walked to where the lurker was sitting, digging into a pouch on her belt. "Kama's such a good boy."

"Kama good!"

"And good boys deserve a cookie."

"Coooo.. keeee!"

Jak just shook his head and removed his other glove as he walked through the door. He'd already memorized the basic layout of the place within hours of arriving, not that it was very hard.

It turned out that Ling's family owned the three bazaar properties that backed up against the garage for quit some time and did a lot of remodeling to the places. When facing the three shops, the ones on the end were active while the middle was a false front. When entering from the front one came into what could be called a foyer which led to the common room and dining room, the kitchen was behind the dining room. Under the stairs was a short corridor leading to the laundry room as well as a half-bath. As for the two stores, well there was a basic 1 bedroom apartment above each. The two merchants renting from her lived above their stores and only one of those had a spouse. So in essence Ling, her two muses and whomever she invited to stay with her had the run of a three bedroom, two bath apartment by themselves.

Ducking into the passage to the laundry room, the sewer soaked teen continued to remove his gear. When he entered the laundry room he was greeted with the sight of Ling giving Daxter a bath in the deep basined sink. His laughter was muffled as he pulled his armored tunic over his head and put it in the pile with the rest of his gear. After he got a shower and ate something he'd start on cleaning his gear. Even though there was nothing planned anytime soon, it was always better to be prepared then to be caught with ones pants around their ankles.

"Jaaaaak! Help me buddy!" Dax whined as more water poured over his already soaked body.

"Hhmm, after you left me out there with that pet lurker? Nope, you're on your own pal," the teen informed the ottsel as he finished stripping down to his pants. His spare clean clothes were up in the bedroom he'd been sharing with Torn along with the spare towels. As he passed through the dining room he noticed Torn was awake and sitting at the table. The older man had his crossed arms resting on the surface before him, head down as if he was looking at his maps and his fingers tapping in time with the music playing in the background. A twitch of the lips was the only indication that he was glad to see Torn up and about. The two doctors, Ruko and Thanil, were talking back and forth in the obscure language on doctors and medics seem to know as they continued eating. He nodded as he passed then disappeared up the stairs.

"He's gone," Thanil said before taking a sip of his wine.

"Promise me, none of you will say a word to him about my condition," Torn said in a voice that sounded tired and worn out.

Thanil just rolled his eyes, "If you wish though I still say your being an idiot about it."

"Ruko?" Torn asked opening his eyes to look at the other doctor. "I know you're not practicing anymore but you still hold to the Hippocratic Oath, right?"

Ruko gave Torn a look then turned away with an annoyed sigh. "Fine, I won't tell the boy about your condition. And for the record I agree with Thanil, your being an idiot about it."

"Well too bad, it's my life and I'll do what I want with it."

When Jak finished his shower he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a few moments. From what he could remember, his eyes were now a darker hue of blue then before they arrived, his skin seemed to be the same though he'd lost his tan soon after he arrived. As for his goatee, well that was something that had started growing in the last year. Nowhere else did he have facial hair except his chin, it was both annoying and weird that never grew any longer and he didn't need to shave anywhere else. With a shake of his head he tossed the damp towel into the basket and proceeded to get dressed in light beige pants and tank-top. Since he was inside, he didn't bother with socks or his boots, which were down in the laundry room waiting to get cleaned. Normally when he wore the steel shod boots he was quite so when barefoot he was absolutely silent as he walked. So when he made his way slowly down the stairs, no one noticed him. Taking the opportunity he sat down on the steps about half way to the bottom to just watch and listen.

Doc Ruko had his arm draped across the chair back of the blue-gray haired female he met earlier. She in turn was leaning against his side, on her lips a fond smile that turned into a grin and laughter as Ruko leaned in and said something too low for even Jak to hear. Thanil was at the end of the table, his plate pushed away and a glass in hand. He smirked then raised the glass in a mock salute before taking a sip. Directly across from the pale doctor sat Ling, at the head of the table. In her lap sat a much cleaner and only slightly damp Daxter. She sat at an angle in her chair, leg crossed over knee and one arm hung over the back of her chair. She kept her drink out of the ottsel's reach every time he tried to grab it. Instead she picked up a smaller glass and sat it directly in front of him. Daxter huffed crossing his arms over his chest and sulked for a few moments before giving in. And across from Ruko sat Torn, his arms still crossed in front of him on the table, head still bowed slightly though his shoulders shook every now and then as he silently laughed at the antics of everyone there.

Jak rested his chin on the palm of his hand, fingers playing absently with his goatee, thinking about how different it was staying here the past few days versus his entire time outside of prison with the Underground. There were no demanding missions, no damp rooms, stale tasting air and no KG rations. Instead he'd been treated like a.. a … _Like someone's kid cousin that has come to visit?..._ like a distant relative with free run of the place. The only rule was no breaking things and he had to come and go through the back garage door instead of the front or main doors. He was use to sneaking in and out of places without being spotted so that wasn't an issue. _Hmmm… What are you doing?.._ huh?.. _Tell me, what are you doing right now?_... just watching. _Just what?_ Watching, you know observing..oh. _Oh indeed. Now tell me, what does Jafo mean.. Jafo._ Just something something observing? _Close but not quite. Try again._ Just a something observer? Good, good. Getting closer. _Try one more time, this time use that one word you hate so much in here._ Just a freak observer… just a freaking observer! _About time!_ "Just a freaking observer!" he said out loud, calling attention to himself.

Ling leaned back so to look in the direction she heard the teen's voice. "What was that Jafo?"

"Just a freaking Observer. That's what Jafo means right?" Jak asked as he stood up and came down the rest of the stairs to take his place at the table.

Ling just chuckled. "Lady and gents, he finally figured it out." She raised her glass in a toast. "Salute!"

"Salute!" came the chorus from everyone else at the table, including Torn, as they raised their glasses as well to toast Jak figuring it out.

The blue-gray haired woman got up and headed to the kitchen, a few minutes later she returned with a plate and glass. Both of which she sat in front of Jak before returning to her seat.

"Thanks," Jak said as he picked up his glass to take a drink. He paused a moment, eyebrows drown down in confusion. "Milk?" he asked looking up. He hadn't had milk since his arrival in the city.

"Yes milk. I doubt your old enough to drink, am I right?" she asked. "Oh, you can call me Alara by the way."

The teen looked at his glass again then shrugged and took a drink. "Don't know… where I came from there wasn't really a drinking age. Just whether or not I found my uncle's stash."

"Hah! Learned all his hidy-holes pretty fast, didn't we pal?" Daxter chimed in from his spot in Ling's lap before stuffing another large chunk of fruit into his mount and munching happily.

"Yeah, that we did."

"So how old are you?" Ruko asked as he swirled his own drink, the ice clinking together musically.

Jak thought about it a few moments then shrugs. "What season is it?"

"Fall," Torn answered.

"Hmm…," Jak thought about it for several moments as he ate. "Just over 17 I guess. Birthday was in summer," he stated then smirked a moment. "Daxter's will be in late fall, early winter. He'll finally be hitting 17 as well." The teen laughed at the ottsel's indigent protests about his age. "How about the rest of you?" his question was met with stares of surprise, astonishment and anger but not anger directed at him.

"Sweet mother of Mar, kid!" Ruko exclaimed. "You should be worrying about your grades, out getting laid or trying to anyways and sneak booze behind someone's back. Not out there fighting a hit and run war between old one eye and the twig chewer." He turned his attention to Torn, pointing a finger. "I don't give a damn how much you respect that man, he's a bloody right wing twig chewing idiot who can't get his head out of the dirt and see the real word past that green haze he's always in."

Torn sat back and held his hands up in defense. "Hey, don't blame me. I tried to get the kid to forget about joining. Even gave him some pretty crappy missions hoping he'd give up and go home. But he didn't. Stuck to it like a bur on a croca-dog's hind end." He leaned forward again once more crossing his arms in front of him. He turned his head slightly to look at the teen in question. "And ya know what? I'm Mar-Damned glad he did."

No one else had much to say on the subject, mostly because they were still digesting the fact that Jak was still considered a child, even by the current standards.

"Umm .. yeah.. this is one of those 'awkward moments' everyone talked about isn't it?" Daxter asked, breaking the tension with his usually style. "So what about his age? Everyone was that young at some time or other… though old grandpa green… yeah I think was even before our time eh Jak?"

Jak gave his friend a thankful smile then shrugged. "Probably. So anyone gonna answer the question of how old are you?"

Ling just shrugged and grinned. "Older then you, older then Praxis's daughter but younger then our esteemed commander there." She quirked an eyebrow and laughed at Torn's expression.

"Ah, I would say about the same age as our grumpy, yet delightfully good cook and Host." Thanil said sitting back.

Torn rolled his eyes but played along. "Older then Ashelin, Ling and Thanil but younger than those two. And for the record I entered the guard when I was 16." he said pointing to the two across the table from him and Jak.

"A lady never tells her true age," Alara said with a smile. "But... Older than everyone here at the table except my dear husband," She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek and a quirked eyebrow.

Ruko just chuckled and raised his glass. "Yes, that's right. I'm the old man at the table. Which means I get to sit back laugh then patch you up after letting you young ones deal with the troubles of today. For the record, you were 16 when you went through boot camp, basic training and smaller field exercises. You were 18 when you officially became a member of the Guard. And by Guard I do NOT mean the Krimson Guard either."

Torn just snorted but didn't add anything further.

The rest of the evening went along just as smoothly. General chatter about this and that, everyone picking on each other in a friendly teasing sort of way, even Jak who normally had a quick temper didn't seem to mind. The only odd man out was Torn who kept nodding off.

"Oy, my neck just aches looking at him doing that," Ling muttered rubbing the back of her own neck as she watched Torn's head drop once more. "Ok, who get's to put grouchy ass there to bed?"

Thanil finished off his drink then set the glass down. "I shall endeavor to put him to bed. I wish to do one final vitals check then, well he's stated his preference so he's on his own." The tall doctor stood up, and gracefully moved to stand beside Torn's chair, gently (and carefully) waking the Underground's second in command. While he did not hover, he made sure to be close enough in case anything happened as the pair went up the stairs.

"Well I guess the party has come to a close. Need help cleaning up?" Ruko asked as he stood then pulled his wife's chair out for her so she could also stand.

"Na, I have the kids give me a hand in cleaning up, you two go on. I'm sure Kama is quite bored by now," Ling commented as she finished off her drink.

"Probably, well I'll see you around work. Good night Jak," Alara said giving him a quick peck on the cheek and a parentally affectionate ruffling of the teen's hair, then followed her husband out the back to the garage.

"Night," Jak said eyebrows almost at his hair line at the woman's actions. After she was gone, he stood up to start cleaning up the table. He didn't notice that Daxter wasn't there anymore or if he did, he didn't say anything about it. When his friend came scampering back to claim his shoulder as a perch, careful of scratching bare flesh with his claws, he held up a hand to forestall anything that would have been said."I already know Daxter," he said in a voice that was a tad lower and more horse sounding than usual.

"How?" Daxter asked, perplexed. He'd just found out himself.

The renegade teen turned his head to look at his best friend. Instead of the now normal darker shade of blue, his eyes were almost black. "Do not worry about our War Leader, he will be fine. But do not say a word to my angry young child about it. There would be nothing HE could do with what little he knows."

His ears lay back as he crouched down further on the thinly covered shoulder. The fur running from the back of Daxter's neck to the base of his tail was standing on end. Never before had Jak's darker self said anything, heck never before had the darker half not been all dark fangs, claws and kill everything in his path before either! "o-o-oh kay…" Dax stuttered not sure if it was a good idea to run or not.

Dark, for indeed it was Dark which had taken over, just chuckled a moment then reached up to scratch his angry child's maker companion under the chin and behind the ears, just as Jak would do. "Do not worry; I will not harm you or our host. If she decides to leave for the evening, why don't you go with her," it was more than just a request. "I do not think you will enjoy what will happen this evening." A tilt of the head, then another chuckle, "but I could be wrong." A shrug of the shoulders then Dark went back to what Jak had been doing before he took over. Washing the dishes and putting away the leftovers.

The stunned spell Daxter was under was broken when several water droplets splattered his face. "Hey! What's the big idea!"

Another chuckle was Dark's answer as he dried his hands off. "Go," he said shrugging his shoulder.

Daxter did just that, hopped down and went loping off to the other room. "Heya CeCe babe, any chance we can go out to party tonight? Jakkie boy want's to turn in early. No fun there."

Ling thought about it for a few moments as she flipped her personal comm unit closed. She then nodded. "If you stay quiet, don't scream in my ear as we go places and not say a word about what you see, than yeah I'll take you out."

"You will?" Dax asked in surprise, never before had his request to go party been met with a fast positive answer.

"Yeah, I'll even take you out to the strip club. IF you don't say a word about anything you see."

"You got it babe!"

Thirty minutes later, both Ling and Daxter were gone and Jak or rather Dark Jak had everything, including Torn, to himself.

-0-

Little things made themselves known to Torn as he slowly woke. The constant ache in his guts that made it feel as if he'd been used as a punching bag. The hollow feel of hunger combined with the queasiness of impending re-visit of the last thing he ate. As well as an over-all tiredness that just wouldn't go away no matter how much he slept. Those were things he'd started to consider the normal since the whole fiasco with the so called 'friendly visit' to the Baron. When he asked about it, both doctors agreed that he had long term, possibly permanent, Eco Poisoning (EP for short), meaning that it would cycle through the stages before going dormant only to return again. But what type EP and how much time between active cycles and dormancy, was still up for debate since he showed symptoms of both Green EP as well as Dark EP.

He almost drifted back off to sleep, but a nagging feeling that something else was going on just wouldn't let him. Taking a slow deep breath then letting it out again he cataloged things that felt out of place. The extra weight across his waist, the warmth at his back and the even breaths ghosting across a bare shoulder clued him to the fact he wasn't alone in the bed. He hoped that the beds other occupant was asleep, but the fact that the hand attached to the arm draped across his waist was rubbing slow circles on his stomach pretty much gave it away that no, that person was not asleep. The pain in his guts and the queasiness was slowly diminishing so while his mind was debating the next logical step to take; his body said fuck it he needed more sleep.

The second time he woke, it was to an intense throbbing in his skull and the heaving of his stomach. The few minutes that followed waking up was a blur, all he knew was he somehow ended up in the bathroom kneeling in front of the toilet puking his guts out. Whatever it was he ate earlier came back up with a vengeance and tasting of foul things. It was as if someone had taken stagnant sewer water, mixed in liberally with poisonous sap of bright green vines and the putrid rot of a week old metalhead corpse. When he opened his eyes long enough to be sure of his aim, he saw purple black, bright green and blood red. He closed them again unable to look at the horrid mix of colors. By the time he was down to just dry heaving, he realized someone had been with him the entire time. That someone had tied his hair out of the way and had kept a comforting, supportive arm about his waist. That someone had also wiped his face with a damp cloth and offered a glass of water to rinse out his mouth.

After a rinse and spit, Torn had no energy left to do anything more than just collapse backwards, eyes closed against the brightness of the bathroom light. Whoever it was that had been with him since he'd woken up the first time didn't seem to mind. After a little shifting, the pair was settled into the corner created by the wall and bathtub. He could feel his companion's leg raised at his back as well as an arm behind his shoulders keeping him from being chilled by the cold metal of the tub. With his head resting against a broad shoulder, his face almost buried in the crook of neck and shoulder, he breathed in the natural scent of his companion. It was a clean smell of someone who didn't drink or smoke, who didn't wear cologne or perfume, and the strong under taint of Dark Eco seemed somehow natural, right even. He could feel the rough calluses on the person's right index finger as the hand in question ghosted over his skin. Slowly everything was coming together and painting an image of the person he was with, however actions contradicted that image. Never had he known the person to show any tenderness to anyone except his friend and then it was only when he thought they were alone.

Cracking one eye open a bare fraction, Torn waited as his eyesight adjusted to the bright overhead light before he cracked open the other. He felt as much as heard the deep indrawn breath followed by the slowly exhaled sigh. After blinking several times to be sure of everything, he realized that no, his eyesight wasn't paying games on him. The skin he saw was a pale shade of gray with a tint of pale lavender, as if someone had tried to wash the purple-black of Dark Eco away but wasn't completely successful. When the hand came into view, each finger was tipped with nails that would be the envy of any high class fashion model. No, not nails… talons his mind corrected. Pitch black talons so sharp and deadly they could slice though KG armor as if it was cloth. He'd heard the reports from his own people and read the reports that Ashelin had passed on as well. And yet here they were, brushing across his skin leaving unmarred flesh in their wake. Logically he knew he should be, if not afraid, than at least weary of this creature yet he wasn't. He just couldn't explain it but he knew, deep down somewhere at the bottom of his soul, just knew that he would not be intentionally harmed.

Oh how he hated being this Mar-be-Damned sick and weak. It left him vulnerable to moments of melancholy speculation on just how fucked up he was, which added to his list of self-guilt at what he perceives as his failures. He heaved a sigh, closing his eyes again. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment and no amount of wishing could change that.

Torn felt the one roaming hand come to a stop, palm flat against his chest over his heart. It rested there for several moments before being removed. Before he could ponder what and why, he had his answer as his own hand was taken and pressed against a firm chest. Under his palm he could feel the steady beat of the creature's heart. He let his head be tilted up and to the side before he felt a palm placed against his own chest over his heart. When he felt warm, wet lips pressed against his own suddenly he thought his heart would stop or at least skip a few beats just from surprise. A swipe of a tongue against his closed lips, tentative and questioning, asking permission as he paused in thought a moment before parting his lips. The creature's tongue, a bit longer then a normal human one, glided past his lips, once more licking them before exploring his mouth. Under his palm he could feel the heartbeat increase. The appendage withdrew before returning to twist about his own then withdraw once more. The hint taken, Torn returned the favor, tasting the Dark Eco taint that was part and parcel of this creature.

The creature broke the kiss first only to nuzzle the underside of Torn's jaw before licking, nipping and kissing his way to an ear. A minute or two of shifting and Torn was now sitting in the creature's lap facing him. That was also when he became aware of just how undressed he was. In fact the creature was dressed in nothing as well. Both males as nude as the day they (or at least Torn) was born and neither one seemed to mind. Hands ghosting over his flesh, a playful tweak of a nipple, strong fingers traveling down his spine to cup his ass pulling him closer until their members touched. A serpentine tongue licking his ear from base to tip and back again as hips rocked together. Too little pressure and friction to do more than tease generated a frustrated curse from the older male and a rumbled chuckle from the other. It didn't take long before warm spit slick fingers wrapped about his cock. Firm down stroke with a slight twist up and a rough thumb pad being drug across a sensitive head. The favor was returned. Tattooed forehead rested against pale twin horn adorned forehead. Breaths mingled in a steady panting rhythm.

Torn refused to open his eyes. He rather stay in this sickness induced fantasy than to open them to a reality where he was engaging in sexual activity, mutual masturbation with his best operative that was also an underage boy who happened to play host to an Eco Demon. It wouldn't matter to any court anywhere that it had been said Eco Demon who had initiated everything. The age gape plus being under the legal age was instant statutory rape, consensual or not. No, with eyes close then the person was around his own age, experienced in both war and love. Dark colored eyes contrasting with albino white skin. Wearing little more than a loincloth, feet wraps and head gear decorated with nekostag horns that curled and twisted, sweeping up and back.

He was so close, riding the edge of the abyss. Just a little further, a little more and he could experience the bliss of an orgasmic high. His hand faltered as heat spiked in his groin. He knew what it felt like to cum and this wasn't it. Something was wrong. Painfully wrong. Letting go he grabbed the wrist of the creature trying to still the pleasure-pain of fast strong strokes. "St-stop," he uttered breathlessly. "Hu-urts, please.. stop."

They shifted once more and Torn found himself sprawled across the cool bathroom floor, half pinned under the greater strength and weight of the creature. A hand cupped his cheek as he opened pain filled eyes searching yet not seeing. The face above him held an apologetic expression, as if saying he was sorry for the pain but it had to be done. Eyes slammed shut as his back arched, fire laced pain exploding in his balls as it felt as if he'd ejaculated ground up glass. A whimper as he tried to curl in on himself, knees brought up and hands lowered to protect that delicate part of him. Bodies shifted yet again and he was once more cradled against a strong chest. A hand gently nudging his chin to look something. When he did open his eyes and look to where he was directed to look, what he saw was as sickening as it was shocking. No wonder it hurt so bloody much.

The creature's hand was covered with his seed, but instead of creamy white it was dark pussy green and gray. Slowly the Eco Demon flexed his taloned fingers and the gray ebbed away leaving pearlescent green. A rag was procured from somewhere close and the rest was quickly and efficiently wiped away. Torn, in the back of his pain and pleasure fogged mind, understood what happened but he wasn't making the connection just yet. All he wanted was to curl up somewhere warm and dark and sleep. Succumbing to that desire to sleep, the older male didn't wake when he was cleaned up, re-dressed in loose sleep pants and tucked into bed. They would have a chance to 'speak' about things at a later time.

When Torn woke the next day, he felt sore yet marginally better. Jak and the rat were already gone, doing only precursors know what for whomever needed him at the time. After a shower, he dressed and made his way down stairs. A look though the place and he found no one home (the muses didn't count). When he checked the garage, Ling's cruiser was there but her personal zoomer wasn't. Making his way into the kitchen he found a note saying she'd be gone for a couple of days and that both the fridge and the pantry was stocked and 'So Mar help me I WILL kick your ass then shove food down your throat if you don't eat something proper! ps you can use the comp in the common room, there's games installed you might like. =^_^=' written at the bottom.

He just grunted softly to himself and proceeded to make something light for his first meal of the day. Between eating and the time Jak returned late in the mid-afternoon, was spent in absolute idle boredom for the Underground's strategic genius. He beat the games that had been installed on the comp. He played several variations of solitaire, winning each. He finally located all his gear and set to putting it back in order starting at boots and working his way up. Another light meal rounded it out before he took a break and found one of Ling's KG Rules and Regs manual.

When Jak and Dax came in, they found Torn stretched out on the couch, the book laying open and face down on his chest, one muse curled up next to his head and the other sprawled out across his legs. He had one arm thrown over his face to block out the light, fingers slowly carding though the silky fur of the muse.

"Leave'em alone Dax," Jak told his friend as he trudged up the stairs for a hot shower and change of clothes. If anything had been said in reply he didn't hear it. It was the simple things in life that he had come to enjoy while he stayed here, even though he knew better then to get use to it. Once Torn was back up and going again, he would also be vacating to continue waging his war against the Baron.

The ottsel perched himself on the arm of the couch above Torn's head. Tense, cautious and waiting. His ears twitched, listening for the sound of running water.

"What do you want Rat?" Torn asked, not bothering moving his arm to look at who he was speaking to. It wasn't worth the bother in his mind.

"Don't speak to Jak about anything that may or may not have happened last night. Please, for the love of Eco and Percusor orbs, do not mention it," Dax pleaded just loud enough that the tattooed man could hear him but no louder. "Dark doesn't want him knowing and I don't want to get on Tall and Gruesome's bad side. He already said that there wasn't anything Jak could do about it anyways." He shifted as he spoke, hopping to the back of the couch then slinking down into the tiny space between the man and the back of the couch. "If he did find out anything happened… I don't think he'd take it very well.. what with all… two years… two years it took for me to get him out of there…" He was rambling and knew it but wasn't able to stop. He had to make Torn understand, just had to. His hand/paws grasp the material of the shirt Torn was wearing, balling the material up in his tiny fists, eyes darting from the now uncovered face of the man who could, with a few words, break his life-long friend.

When the ottsel had wedged itself into the tiny space, Torn grimaced slightly. The Rat had somehow managed to find the second sorest spot on his body. Lifting his arm off his face he picked up the book and set it to the side. A grunt as a good thirty plus pounds of animal crawled onto his stomach to grab his shirt in a death grip. How Jak could carry around this rat's weight on his shoulders was a mystery. Opening his mouth to say something in his usual sarcastic style he stopped, taking a good look at the ottsel for the first time since he'd met the pest. He'd seen it doing everything from making faces and acting silly to curled up peacefully on Jak's chest asleep. Never had he seen it like this though. Ears laid back flat along the top of its head, eyes wide and darting back and forth, a body so tense it looked to break at the slightest provocation. Taking a deep breath he let it out in slowly, he knew he was gonna regret it but if it kept his best operative from going off the deep end then he'd do it. "Fine, I won't mention, hint at or speak about anything that happens between me and? What did you call it?"

"Dark.. Dark Jak. Even though he's not really dark just… got anger issues ya know?"

"Whatever happens between me and Dark, I'll stay silent concerning it. And unless it's Jak himself who confronts me about it with evidence that only he and I would know about, I'll deny anything ever happening. Satisfied Rat?" Torn asked. He knew it must have been the right thing because suddenly the ottsel was like a limp rag on his stomach. Next thing he knew he had a head shoved up under his chin, rubbing against his jaw and cheek as the rat babbled 'thank you' over and over. "Enough, get off me rat," he said in annoyance grabbing Daxter up by the scruff of his neck and pulling the ottsel off him and onto the floor. Well he needed to get up anyways and figure out what they were going to do about food. Plus he wanted to field strip and thoroughly clean his pistols. Even though they were resistant to the elements, being submerged in water for hours could still wreck some havoc. As it turned out, Jak had gotten the ingredients for the evening's meal and did the cooking.

The rest of the evening was rather relaxing, in an odd sort of way. While Torn was field stripping his pistols Jak was watching him with interest. It turned out that Jak didn't know more than just the very basic of gun maintenance (aka how to switch between morphs, clear a jam and reload). To the Underground's 2IC that was unacceptable so after finding the weapon cleaning supplies that Ling had, the two spent the rest of the evening stripping, cleaning, re-assembling then repeating the first and last until Torn was satisfied Jak had a better understanding. It also allowed him time to formulate a list of questions he wanted to as 'Dark' next time they met. That meeting took place only a few hours after everyone called it quits for the night.

Being in (slightly) better shape than the day before, Torn woke up soon after Dark crawled into the bed with him. A few minutes of general grumbling and Torn was able to shove an amused Dark off of him so he could sit up. Feeling the weight shift off the bed he was able to raise a hand to block the sudden brightness as the lights were turned on. Blinking his eyes several times he adjusted fairly quickly to the change. It was the first time he got a truly good look at the creature that the rat had named 'Dark Jak'.

Same basic body structure as the teen though a little more buffed, no real height change. The real changes were hair, skin, eyes, nails and the addition of horns. Like from the previous night, in the light the creature - no, he corrected himself mentally, Dark's skin and hair both, was pale gray-white with the barest tint of lavender. Eyebrows and that bit of face fuzz Jak wore were both a warm gray color.

Torn crooking a finer then patted the bed in front of him, requesting Dark to come back to the bed. Dark in return pointed to the lamp on the nightstand then the overhead light. Message received and understood, Torn reached over and turned on the lamp. Dark turned off the overhead and returned to the sit on the bed in front of the other man. All through this there was an amused smirk on Dark's face; Torn on the other hand looked curious yet thoughtful. No words were spoken yet, none were needed. Dark settled cross-legged, elbow on knee, chin in hand to stare back, talon tipped fingers slowly rubbing pale smirking lips. Torn scowled for a moment then rolled his eyes with a sigh. Motioning once more, he asked to see Dark's hand. Yes the talons were several inches long as well as pointed but when he ran a finger gingerly over the tips, he found them dull and no better than normal nails. He gave Dark a puzzled look at his findings. Dark, still smirking, flexed his hand in the same manner a muse or Dax would flex their front paws and his talons grew several more inches. Dark then took Torn's hand and turned it palm up. A single light tap of one talon had the older man jerk his hand back in surprise. It felt as if someone had taken a needle and jabbed it through his finger, light pressure was all it took to cause a ruby upwelling. Before he could do anything, Dark had bent his head slightly after taking his hand then slowly in a deliberate and erotic way, licked the finger clean of blood. Torn scowled and looked away, his cheeks tinting just slightly.

When the tattooed male finally looked back at the other he reached up and rubbed one temple. "Before we…," he trailed off as he shook his head to re-arrange his thoughts once more. "Before I can continue with what started last night, I need to some things first. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Dark nodded. 'Yes.'

"Can you speak?"

A shake of the head. 'No.'

"Can you read?"

'Yes'

"Can you write?"

A waggle of the hand, then a motion of the fingers. 'Maybe, need to be more specific,' the gesture seemed to say.

"Hhmm.. Ok, I'll come back to that in a few. Are you and Jak the same, just an alternate personality?"

Dark gave him a look then shook his head. 'No."

"So you and Jak are two different people who just happened to share the same body."

'Yes'

"How old.. wait you can't speak… damn… Are you younger then Jak?"

'No'

"So your older then Jak?"

'Yes'

"Can you give me an idea how much older?"

Dark thought about it for a moment, picking though memories and such from the day before. Torn had mentioned he was older than all but two people at the table. He pointed at Torn with one hand, then motioned to himself then his head with the other before spacing his hands only a little bit apart. He repeated it a few more times before Torn got the gist.

"Yeah, there's a few years between me and Jak, but that doesn't answer my question of how much older you are in comparison."

'Just be patient,' Dark seemed to say with a few motions. He then pointed to Torn once more, this time when he pointed to himself; he tapped two fingers over his heart. Raising an eyebrow and tilting his head to the side. 'Understand?'

Torn nodded. "Go on."

When Dark held his hands apart, they were far apart.

"So if I get it right, you're saying that you are far older than say Samos or Onin?"

'Yes. Much older.'

"Older than the founding of Haven city even?"

Dark tilted his head in the opposite direction, questioningly.

"Right, sorry. Haven City, if we survive the metalheads and everything else, will be celebrating its 600 year anniversary in less 10 years."

'Yes,' Dark nodded, the unspoken part of 'I'm older then the city' left hanging.

"So back to the question about writing. Can you write modern?"

'No.'

"Damn, bet you could translate a lotta old texts no one other then monks seem to understand," Torn said with a chuckle as he rubbed his chin. He was and wasn't surprised at the idea that Dark was very old. It also laid to rest some fears but opened other concerns.

"Does Jak know what you're doing?"

'No'

"Are you going to let him know?"

'Maybe,' A waggle of the hand then a shrug of the shoulders as he tapped the back of his wrist. 'not sure when.'

Torn nodded, accepting that answer. "As long as he doesn't find out at the wrong time by the wrong person. And don't just leave him in the dark either."

A snorted chuckle was the reply Dark gave, before deciding that it was time to do more than talk. All it took was a moment and he had Torn pinned to the mattress. The tattooed male seemed more receptive and responsive this time around. Sprawled across the warm body below him, Dark took time to explore the landscape of muscle, skin and ink. In return, Torn did some exploring of his own. Calloused fingers traced paths of old faded scars scattered about back and shoulders before coming up to bury themselves in the thick mane of hair. The older male couldn't help but laugh as Dark leaned into the caresses coming as close to a purr as humanly possible, especially when he paid attention to the area around the base of the twin ebony horns.

Dark got Torn back by using his greater strength to hold the ex-KG commander down. Wrists clasp in a tight grip, body keeping hips and one leg pinned with his shoulder wedged in to prevent the other leg from being used to kick or shove him away. Dark proved just how versatile and talented his tongue was as he from base to tip and back down again. He took his time as he continued to tease, enjoying the small sounds he was wringing from his future-past and soon to be present mate. He never used his hands as he nuzzled, sniffed, licked and nipped at the rigid flesh before him.

Torn hissed and groaned in pleasure, small sounds that escaped no matter how hard he tried to stay silent. Back arching up as much as possible with having so little leverage as sharp canines scraped against delicate skin setting nerves aflame. With him being held down, it awoke his bondage fetish. The fierce desire to be dominated sexual was almost choking him with its intensity.

The Eco entity felt the change. From straining and trying to pull away to quivering, silently demanding more as the jerks and bucks of slim hips increased. He let go of wrists to add a little hand action into the mix but glanced up though gray-white fringes of hair as one retreating hand was snatched up and placed over a rapidly beating heart. As he deep-throated the man under him, he chuckled in the back of his throat earning a bout of breathless cursing and a sharp thrust of hips. He could feel with his tongue the rapid pulse and rushing blood in the veins of the shaft as he pulled back. He needed to make a decision soon as to what he would do, either swallow or avoid.

"If-if you keep…that u-nnnghh!" Fingers digging into the bed sheets, an arm thrown over his eyes, fist clinched tight enough to leave crescent marks on the palm.

Decision made, Dark went down once again till his nose touched the smooth hairless skin around the base of Torn's shaft. Humming accompanied fast movement of tongue combined with rolling the older man's balls between fingers and scraping talons teasingly down chest and stomach. Later he would wish that he'd chosen not to swallow but once done, it was over with. Acid bitterness nearly over whelmed the strong taste that was dark and musky. He'd have that taste in his mouth, lingering even after he rinsed.

For Torn, when he came it was like being hit by lightening while drowning in a sea of sensation. Even behind closed eyelids, his vision whited out for several moments along with every other sense he had. It was so peaceful floating in that personal haven called afterglow. Body relaxed, mind soothingly quiet, as if he was floating untouched beyond it all. Like all good things, it had to come to an end. He roused enough to help clean up the mess then re-dress but as soon as his head hit the pillows he was peacefully asleep.

Dark on the other hand gathered up the clothes Jak had fallen asleep in and retreated to the bathroom to deal with his own issues. Eyes closed, he overlaid the mental images of Torn in the throes of passion with an imagined idea of how hot and tight he'd be when he finally took him. With a soft grunt and a shudder he came. A few strokes later and he knew there would be no residual evidence that anything happened that night, just like the night before. Once more dressed, all the lights out and the door cracked open he stretched out on the pallet of blankets that Jak had preferred over a real bed. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to dissipate into the recesses of the teen's mind once more.

-0-

Many things would occur before Dark and Torn were able to truly consummate their relationship. Jak's relationship with Keira would run hot and cold. He would defeat the leader of the Metalheads then a year later be banished from the City. He would gain another entity, this one on the opposite spectrum from the Dark Eco entity and he would discover that he had a father who was still alive and still looking for him. He and his companions would be poisoned and forced to race for their lives…

But those are all stories for another time.

-0-

(A/N pt 2: Random Hyper Person, I hope you are happy cause you created a monster! A word count of almost 20K words!! Arrrgh…. I swear this is turning into a DJ/Torn centric fic.. or at least THIS chapter was. Possible others also DJ/Torn centric.. not sure, have to see what I got noted down and what the muses do.

Anyways I now have a forum up that covers ideas from this and possible other J&D stuff. I'm debating the cliché "Dark becomes his own person" idea vs the "They stay as one happy yet fucked up person" idea. Suggestions? Comments? Ideas?... tell me in the forum or in review….

Hope you enjoyed this monster of a chapter.)


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